MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

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MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance Page 137

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH


  As we unpacked our belongings and moved in, we talked about our backgrounds. I found out that Emily was from a small town in Kansas. Her two main reasons for coming to school here were to get away from her parents and to have access to lots of young black men – nearly two thirds of the students at Kentucky State are black.

  “Why do you prefer black guys?” I asked. As an attractive blonde woman still in her twenties, I’d turned a few heads in my day. Although I’d put on an extra ten or fifteen pounds after having two kids, most of it went to my breasts and ass, and I still garnered attention from men of all races and ages. Although I found black men to be sexy, I never considered dated outside my race.

  “I don’t have anything against white guys,” she said. “It’s just that black guys were the ones who paid attention to me in high school. They like a girl with a big booty.” She lifted a pair of shirts and put them in a drawer. “But I had to date them on the sly. My parents say they aren’t racist, but one day I brought home a black guy. My dad totally flipped out.”

  “So, is it true what they say?” I asked slyly.

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Their cocks? Oh, yes, it’s true. Not all of them, of course. But on average, yes, they are huge. I’ve had sex with fourteen black guys and I’d say eight inches is pretty normal. Eight inches and thick!”

  “Fourteen guys,” I said. “I’ve only been with my husband.”

  “Fourteen black guys,” Emily clarified. “I’ve been with white guys, too, and a couple Asians. Believe me, the black guys are definitely bigger.” She sat down on the edge of my bed. “So tell me, how big is your husband’s penis?”

  I laughed. “Jeesh. All right, if we are sharing… I haven’t measured it but I’d say about five inches long.”

  “Is it thick at least?”

  “I dunno.” I tried to think of something to compare it to. “Like the size of an uncooked hotdog?”

  Emily laughed. “I’m sorry to laugh, but that’s just awful. I could never be in a relationship with a guy that small. Sex is important to me. And I mean good sex – not getting tickled by an oversized clitoris!”

  We both laughed.

  We both started off our classes. It was the first time that I’d been away from my husband and children and I started to feel a little homesick. I called Michael and the kids on the phone every day but it wasn’t the same as seeing them. Still, I was starting to get used to living with a young roommate and enjoying the college vibe. In fact, Emily told me that she heard about a party going on at one of the black fraternities on Friday night. She said there would be lots of alcohol, dancing with hot guys and hooking up, and asked me if I wanted to go. I said it sounded like fun.

  On Friday night, we dressed up for the party. Right before we left, I told Emily to wait. I needed to call my husband and make sure he was okay with it.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “I don’t want to stop you from hanging out with people and having a good time.”

  “I know. I just wanted to make sure you’d be okay with it because there will be a lot of single guys there. It sounds like there will be kegs there. You know, typical college stuff. I’ll probably just hang out with Emily and meet people, maybe dance.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” He paused, then said, “You’re basically living the life of a single college girl. I don’t want to stop you from making friends and hanging out with them.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s just that there will be guys there and drinking, and I just want to make sure that anything I do won’t make you upset.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. She was dressed in a sexy red blouse, impatiently waiting for me to finish the call.

  “Well, if you have unprotected sex, I probably wouldn’t be happy about that.”

  “Oh, jeesh.” Michael and I used condoms for birth control and I would never consider abortion, so that should have went without saying. But I wasn’t intending on breaking my marriage vows. “I’m not talking about having sex.”

  I heard my daughter’s voice in the background. Michael stopped to scold her, then returned the phone. “I gotta go. Honey, you’re a grown woman. You can make your own decisions. I’m not going to micromanage you. I trust your judgment.”

  Emily and I made our way to the fraternity house. It was old and dusty, and it looked kind of like an old plantation house. Loud rap music was playing inside. A young black guy with glasses was standing at the door holding a clipboard. I figured he was going to check to see if we were on the list. “Welcome ladies,” he said, as he waved us in.

  When we stepped inside, the room was pretty packed. There were dozens of people in the room. About half the women were white. The other half of the women, and all of the men, were black. I started to feel a little scared but Emily seemed totally at ease and took my hand, steering me over towards a keg near a long wooden table. We each grabbed a red plastic cup, poured ourselves a beer and started sipping.

  “Those guys over there are checking us out,” Emily said. “They’re really cute.”

  There were two muscular, dark-skinned black guys standing near the ping pong table, each holding a red plastic cup. The first guy had dreadlocks and was wearing Abercrombie from head to toe. The second guy was wearing jeans and a blue hoodie over a red-and-white t-shirt. They apparently saw us looking their way and started making their way through the room. When they reached us, the guy with the dreadlocks introduced himself as Carl. The guy in the hoodie said his name was Malik.

  Carl and Emily seemed to really hit it off and they walked over near the wall to talk. “He really likes your friend,” Malik said. “That’s fine with me. I love a beautiful blonde.” As I spoke with Malik, I found him incredibly sexy. He stood very close to me, his body up against mine, leaning in toward my ear to speak over the loud music. I could smell the beer on his breath as well as his cologne, which was different from my husbands and I loved it. I learned that he was a frat boy and lived upstairs on the second floor. He was from Ohio like me, just outside Cincinnati, and that he was a sophomore majoring in communication. We finished our beers and he got us refills. As he handed me back my cup, he looked down at my left hand.

  “You’re married?”

  “Yes, I am. My husband is back at our home while I’m going to school.”

  “That’s real tough, living apart. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying that long distance relationships don’t work.”

  “Everybody says that,” I replied. “But I don’t believe that.”

  “I didn’t believe it either. I learned the hard way.” He explained that his high school sweetheart got accepted into a college in Cleveland. He was loyal to her and visited her once a month and then found out that she was cheating on him the whole time. “There’s another saying: a short separation strengthens love and a long separation kills it.” He shook his head.

  “I’m sorry she broke your heart,” I said. “She did you wrong.”

  “No, I did myself wrong. She was right to meet somebody else.” He took a swig from his cup, finishing his second beer. “It’s fine to have a sexually exclusive relationship when you’re together and having sex all the time. But agreeing to only have sex with one person, and then you can’t have sex with her because she lives far away, that’s just crazy. I’m sorry that I missed the chance to enjoy all the opportunities. This is a once in a life chance for young guys and girls to mingle and have fun.”

  I looked over at Emily. She was leaning back against the wall and talking like crazy. She was clearly into Carl.

  “I’m going to get some good beer from the kitchen.” Malik said. “Do you like craft beer?”

  “I hardly ever drink.” Although I’d only had two beers, I already had a nice buzz. I hadn’t eaten anything for hours.

  “I’ll get you one, too. You’ll love it.”

  He went to the kitchen and returned with two tall pint glasses. I took a sip. The taste was very strong, like somebody had mixed beer and whiskey.

  “This is beer?” I ask
ed.

  “Yes, it’s a craft beer. It’s big on the West Coast. It’s aged in whiskey barrels.”

  As we talked more, I found myself really liking Malik. I’d never spent so much time talking with a black guy, and I found him handsome and very sexy. The crowd was thinning out as people left the party or went off into the bedrooms upstairs. Emily came over and explained that she was going upstairs to Carl’s room to check out his stereo system. I told her that I would come up with her. I downed the rest of my beer, then Malik and I followed them upstairs. As we walked across the room, I was a little wobbly and I realized just how intoxicated I had become. I was more than a little wobbly during the walk and some of the people were smirking as we made our way up the stairs.

  When we got to Carl’s room, Emily and Carl went inside with the door open and sat on the couch. I leaned back against the hallway wall just outside the room, trying to regain my bearings from the three beers. Just then Malik leaned forward and started to kiss my neck. His powerful black frame covered my body and I was incredibly aroused. I figured that there was nothing wrong with making out with him. I ran my hands down his back, caressing his ass and legs as we French kissed. He took my hand and pulled me into the room, then closed the door.

  I looked over at Emily. They were kissing passionately. Her shirt was already off. Carl unhooked her black bra and they laid back on the couch, Carl on top of her, making out passionately. I was in a daze from the alcohol, not sure what to do.

  Malik began kissing me again. He was an amazing kisser, and I loved the smell of his skin against me as I dry humped him. He took off his shirt and mine, then we kissed again, embracing flesh to flesh. He then unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans down. Here I was, standing in front of this black stranger in my white bra and panties, and in the moment I thought it was fine. Michael said he was okay with me acting like a single college girl and I was enjoying it.

  “You are so beautiful,” Malik said. “I can’t let you go home without tasting your pussy on my tongue.”

  That sounded like a great idea to me. Malik still had his jeans on as he laid me down on the bed. and he slipped his fingers in the sides of my white silk panties. I lifted my hips to allow him to pull them down. My cunt was very wet, eager for him. Malik got on top of me, kissing my breasts and sucking on my nipples. Then he kissed his way down past my blond pubic hair and began to perform cunnilingus. It felt good at first but I don’t think he was very experienced at it, and the way he was licking was starting to become annoying.

  I felt even drunker. I stretched my arms out across the bed, afraid that the room would start to spin. Malik pulled down his pants and underpants. I was shocked at the size of his cock. It was nearly down to his knees, twice as long and far thicker than my husband’s meager tool. He brought it over to my mouth and grabbed the back of my head. As I licked and sucked on his cock, it didn’t grow much larger but it became thicker. As I did, I heard Emily moaning loudly in pleasure. Carl had her bent over on the couch, fucking her doggy style and slapping her big booty, and she seemed to be in ecstasy.

  Malik pulled his fat cock from my mouth. I flopped my head back on the bed. As he moved on top of me, through the drunken haze I somehow remembered what I had to do. I lifted my head and said, “I’m not on the Pill. Use a condom.” Carl told him that he had a box of Magnums under the bed. Malik reached under the bed, pulled out a black tin foil square, and got back between my legs. As he ripped the condom wrapper, I dropped my head back on the bed and closed my eyes.

  I felt Malik’s huge cock pressing against my entrance. He slowly worked it in, thrust after thrust, an inch at a time. I didn’t think I could take all of it but I soon felt his heavy balls resting against my ass cheeks. Having his cock inside me was totally different from being with my husband. My pussy felt totally filled. Malik leaned forward on top of me. I wrapped by legs around his back and locked my ankles, and my arms around his broad, muscular shoulders. The contrast of my white arms and legs around his dark black body was incredibly erotic. His thick cock was not only touching all the right places inside of me, but every thrust moved my clit in just the right way. I felt myself nearing orgasm, so I reached a hand down and rubbed my clit. The orgasm hit me hard. “Oh, God!” It started as a moan, but then turned into a scream as I rolled through a dozen powerful orgasms. Malik’s breathing started to quicken and I knew that he was reaching his climax. He groaned as he pushed all the way inside me, and I could feel his cock twitching as it fired countless millions of sperm.

  Malik lowered himself on top of me. We slowly kissed for a while with him laying on top of me, slowly moving his cock in and out of my box. Although he was a stranger, I felt so safe nestled beneath his strong body.

  I don’t know if I passed out or just fell asleep, but it was morning when Emily woke me up. My head was on a pillow and I was covered with a sheet.

  “Good morning sleepy head!” Emily said with a huge smile. She was pulling her pants up over her panties, and her bra was back on.

  “Shit,” I said, my head pounding with a hangover. Light was streaming in through the window, so I covered my eyes.

  “You really enjoyed Malik and his huge cock. You were moaning like crazy. How many orgasms did you have?”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s eight-thirty. Get dressed.”

  I looked over at the coach. Carl was asleep under a sheet. Malik was nowhere to be seen.

  I stumbled out of bed, still a little drunk. Something didn’t feel right between my legs. I looked down and there was dried semen all over my crotch, flecked in my pubic hair, and sticking down my inner thighs. On the floor was the Trojan foil wrapper, the top ripped open but the condom still inside.

  “Shit!” I counted the days since my last period. It had been two and half weeks. It couldn’t have been a worse time as far as getting pregnant was concerned. “Fuck!”

  I quickly threw on my clothes and began my walk of shame with Emily back to our dorm.

  MY WHITE WIFE HAS BLACK BABIES!

  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.

  * * *

  My wife Amanda and I are a typical suburban married couple. We’re both 34 years old and we have three children together. The only thing that’s a little strange about us is that, although Amanda and I are white, our children are black. People often ask us whether the kids are adopted but we tell them no, the children are English and Irish just like us.

  A few months after we were married, my wife went on a trip with some of her single girlfriends to the Bahamas. Her girlfriends are pretty wild and I knew that they were looking forward to hooking up with some native men. In fact, I saw a text on Amanda’s phone where her friend Cheryl was talking about a bodybuilder from the Bahamas she met online named Christopher. I saw his naked picture and he was dark black skinned, athletic, and very well hung.

  Amanda uses a diaphragm for birth control. When we pack for vacations, she is careful to always pack her diaphragm in her luggage for birth control. Apparently it was such a habit that she accidentally packed it in her bag for her Bahamas trip. I knew she wouldn’t need it because I wasn’t going along, so I removed it from her bag and put it back in the dresser.

  A week later, the girls returned from their trip exhausted but with lots of giggling and whispering. Amanda and I made love on the night of her return. She used t
he diaphragm with me, as she always does, but no birth control is a hundred percent effective. I think it might have slipped out of place, actually, because I noticed that her vagina felt much looser than usual that night. In any event, one of my little wigglers made it through because nine months later, my wife gave birth to our oldest son, Christian.

  When Christian was born, I immediately thought that his facial features looked like those of Christopher, the black bodybuilder from the Bahamas, only a few shades lighter. When I mentioned this to Amanda, she got quite defensive. She pointed out that while our son doesn’t look like me, he doesn’t look like her, either, but she knows she’s the biological mother! I hadn’t thought about it like that but I realized she is right and I was being ridiculous. Although my wife is very fair skinned with red hair, I’ve heard about the Black Irish and I suspect that she might have some Black Irish recessive genes that came to the forefront.

  A couple of years later, Amanda was spending a lot of time with Jenny, a friend of hers who lives a few doors down. One night I was at home watching television while Amanda was visiting over at Jenny’s house. I decided to go for a walk and I noticed Amanda standing on the deck behind Jenny’s house sipping on a drink with a young black guy who was dressed like a hoodlum. She was backed up against the railing and the guy was right up against her, and I could see her smiling and glancing at him appreciatively. I walked down the side of the house and listened in as best as I could.

  “Fuck that,” the guy said. “I’m clean, bitch, and I hate rubbers.”

  “I hate them, too,” Amanda said. “But you have to.”

  “Why?” the guy asked.

  “I’m not on the Pill. I use a diaphragm and I don’t have it with me.”

  “Shit.” He paused. “I’ll pull out.”

  Then I heard the patio door open. Jenny said something and they walked inside. I sneaked back to the road, looked around to make sure nobody saw that I’d been eavesdropping, and I walked back home. Amanda didn’t come home until 2AM that night. She said she was up late playing cards with Jenny. While she took a shower, I secretly checked out her panties. The crotch was wet and funky smelling, soaked with her juices and sticky semen. I became incredibly aroused.

 

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