MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH

  In the morning, everyone acted like nothing had happened. Ethan said goodbye and he drove his car back to his mother’s house.

  It’s now been a week since my wife’s sexual encounter with her friend’s black son. It’s been great for me, as we’ve been having sex every night. Amanda is so wet and excited, and I have no doubt that she’s fantasizing about having sex with Ethan. What she doesn’t know is that I’m having the very same fantasy, and it’s so hot that I only last a few minutes before I blast the condom’s reservoir with my seed. Yes, it’s been great for our sex life. I hope Ethan visits his mother again soon!

  DON’T TELL MY HUBBY!

  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.

  * * *

  “Hey, who’s sports car is that?” I asked my friend Teesha as I stepped inside her kitchen. She was making pasta and salad for dinner. I was surprised to see a gorgeous sports car in her driveway, as I knew she couldn’t afford something like that.

  “That’s Bishop’s car,” Teesha replied. “I’ve told you about Bishop, right? He’s my younger brother.”

  She certainly had. Bishop was a talented football player on a top college team. According to Teesha, Bishop was also quite a ladies’ man. He’d slept with dozens of pretty girls on his campus. The gossip she’d heard was that her brother was very well-equipped and knew how to use it, too.

  Over in the living room, I saw a handsome black man with a chiseled physique stand up. He smiled and walked into the kitchen. “Hi, I’m Bishop,” he said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. I watched admiringly as he walked back to the couch.

  “You like my little brother, don’t you, Emma?” Teesha grinned widely.

  “He’s a good looking young man,” I said.

  Teesha knew that I’m a happily married mother of two. Besides, I’m twenty-eight years old and her brother is a college student. But still, I found myself intensely attracted to Bishop and I felt warm and wet between my legs. “I’m not surprised that he’s popular.”

  Teesha and I made some martinis, then we sat down and talked about our lives and families. When Bishop joined us, he made the three of us a special martini he called the “Bishoptini.” It seemed a little strong but I didn’t complain. He bragged about his accomplishments, both on and off the field. Although he was arrogant, he was very charismatic, funny and sexy. Although I’d never dated a black guy, I was surprised at how attracted I was to Bishop. If I hadn’t been a married woman, I would have given him my number.

  After another round of martinis, Teesha and I were both pretty smashed. We put away the food, and she suggested I stay the night rather than drive home given how much we’d consumed. And, she added, if I wasn’t driving we could have another drink. It sounded like a good idea, so I called Steve (my husband) and let him know that I’d be staying the night at Teesha’s. We had a couple more martinis, chatted a bit more, and then we called it a night.

  I walked into the guest room, very inebriated, and I stripped off my clothes. The room was dark except for a night light, and I walked over and slipped into bed. But something didn’t quite seem right. Still, I was drunk and just tried to go to sleep.

  “Hey, babe,” Bishop whispered. I was startled and rolled over. He was naked, laying next to me in the bed. “I guess you wanted to join me?”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I’m sleeping in the guest room. Teesha said you are sleeping downstairs on the futon.”

  When he said that, I suddenly remembered. Yes, that’s what she’d said. But I was very drunk and tired, and at some level I kind of liked that we were in bed together. “I always sleep in this bed.”

  “If you want to sleep here with me, that’s fine.” I felt him move up beside my back, spooning against me, and he placed his arms around me. I loved feeling his hard muscular frame holding my soft body. I could feel his cock, semi-hard and getting harder, as he slowly dry humped against me.

  “Mmmmhh,” I said, turning a bit away from him. He kissed my neck and ran his hands down my body. I was getting very wet, so turned on by this sexy young athlete. I’d always wanted to sleep with a black guy, especially one as hung as Bishop seemed to be.

  “Bishop,” I said sleepily, turning toward him with my eyes still closed. “I’m married.” I used my hands to gently, playfully push him away, one hand to his chest and one right to his crotch.

  “Mmmm, you like that big black cock, don’t you? Do you want to try that?”

  “I want to but I’m a married woman.” I also wasn’t on the pill, as my husband and I use condoms when I’m fertile. I tried to remember when I last had my period but I couldn’t.

  The young black stud moved above me. “I didn’t ask what you should do. If you don’t want to, I won’t. Just say no if you don’t want it.” He kissed me and I kissed him back. I felt his cock not far from my warm, wet cunt. It rubbed against my leg, so I reached down and lined it up with my womanhood. I rubbed the head to coat it with my juices. Bishop slowly pushed his black weapon inside of me. Inch by inch, my pussy expanded to accommodate his thick tool. After having two kids, I was looser and vaginal sex with my husband didn’t feel as good as it used to, but now with Bishop’s thick black cock, it felt better than anything I’d ever experienced.

  “Oh, God, it feels good,” I said over and over. I probably should have found something better to say, but in my drunken haze all I could do was praise his cock. I loved feeling so full, and his massive meat was touching all the right places. He reached down a hand and toggled my clit, and it didn’t take long for me to erupt with the mother of all orgasms. I felt so safe with him, enveloped by the blankets and his large muscular frame. I had orgasm after orgasm, and finally Bishop warned that he was going to come. He fucked me harder, faster, and the feeling was divine. Then I felt him push deep, the huge head of his cock pressing against my cervix as his cock swelled even larger. I felt his testicles twitch against my ass, his mighty shaft jerking, pulsating, as he filled me with his African seed. He stayed in place for a little while, as every drop of his sperm oozed inside of me. Then he kissed me and then rolled to my side. Moments later, I fell asleep.

  Teesha came into our room in the morning. “Damn, girlfriend,” she said, hands on her hips. I woke up and looked around. There we were, Bishop and I both naked on the bed, his arms and legs wrapped around me, with a sticky wet spot on the bed. “I guess the two of you really got introduced last night!”

  Embarrassed, I tried to get out of bed but I was unsteady from the alcohol. I quickly took a shower, jumped back into my clothes, and I drove back home. Teesha called later that day and we had a good laugh about it. Teesha revealed that Bishop wanted to see me again the next time he’s in town. I asked her to tell Bishop that he was amazing but I shouldn’t do it again because I’m a married woman. I’m sure he’ll know what that means – I can’t wait to see him again!

  JOINING THE LIFESTYLE

  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 copyr
ight 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.

  * * *

  “This is incredible,” my hubby Jacob said as he looked through the glass window. Below us was an orgy of young white women being serviced by tall, handsome, muscular black men. The women were writhing, moaning in what seemed to be intense pleasure. “Those guys have huge cocks!”

  That was our first time visiting the Breeding Club. My friend Hailey, who had been a member for three years, was raving about how great it was and offered to sponsor my membership into the Club. I discussed it with Jacob, and we agreed that we’d join the Club.

  “And that’s the main playroom,” Dr. Stacy said. “You’ll find there are also private rooms if you want privacy with your black lovers.” She stood beside us in her white lab coat, a beautiful woman with shoulder-length blonde hair. She smiled as she watched the erotic scene below us. “So what do you think, Kaitlyn? Is this something you would like to experience?”

  I glanced over at Jacob. He looked a little uncertain, but I knew it was the right thing for both of us. He would get so much pleasure out of watching me being taken and pleasured by these men, he just needed to be pushed a bit. “Yes, let’s do it,” I said.

  An hour later, we were in the Club’s surgical room. My husband was under general anesthesia, laying totally unconscious on the operating table. His little white penis was held up against his lower waist with a band to keep it safely away from surgical site. They’d shaved his shaft and testicles, and the nurse’s gloved hands carefully held his ball sack taught while Dr. Stacy began the operation.

  “Castration is actually a very beneficial procedure,” Stacy said to me, holding a scalpel in her gloved hands and gently bringing it to my husband’s sack. She placed the blade right on the line of skin that separated the two sides of the sack, then she carefully made a downward slice about an inch and a half long. “Removing the testicles reduces testosterone levels and reduces a man’s violent impulses. There are studies showing that this helps men live longer.”

  As she continued slicing, I could see some whitish tissue appear through the opening in his sack, which appeared to be his left testicle. “There are men who are built for sex,” Dr. Stacy continued, “but they aren’t good partners. And then there are men, like your husband, who are family men. Nice guys are the most wonderful men in the world, and they are very useful to women. But they aren’t needed for sex. Their sexual desires are simply an unwanted nuisance for everyone involved.”

  The nurse pressed down with the razor. The incision was sufficiently large and the left testicle popped out, covered in white and attached by a cord of tissue. “Ah, there we are,” Dr. Stacy said, holding the ball in her fingers. “As you can see, Kaitlyn, it’s covered by a layer of white tissue called the ‘tunic.’ I’ll first need to remove that.” She picked up a pair of surgical scissors and sliced through the tissue, and the ball slipped out of the tunic. The whole thing kind of reminded me of cooking and breaking an egg – when you tilt the half shell in your fingers so that the whites drip out, leaving only the yolk in the shell.

  As the nurse held my husband’s left testicle, Dr. Stacy began to tie a thin surgical string around his cord, pulling it as tight as possible. “This will cut off the blood supply.” Then, taking the pair of scissors, she cut the cord near the ball, freeing the testicle from his body. Stacy held it up for my inspection. Meanwhile, my husband’s left cord withdrew inside his sack.

  “The testicles create about 95% of the testosterone. Without this, his sex drive and any jealousy he might feel will be gone. When both of his testicles are removed, you obviously won’t need to worry about pregnancy by him. But he probably won’t be able to obtain an erection, anyway, and whatever sex drive remains will be minimal at best. Now your husband can focus on his work and taking care of you, without any sexual desires, jealousy or violent tendencies interfering. And you will be free to get the kind of sex that you crave – sex from a real man.”

  I nodded, knowing what she said was true. Hailey told me that her husband was so much happier after his castration, and she’s now having the best sex of her life at the Club. While the doctor removed my husband’s second testicle, I was fantasizing about making love with one of the Club’s handsome black men. I’d always wanted to be with a black guy, and the guys they offered were tall, muscular stallions. The doctor and nurse stitched up Jacob’s now-empty sack.

  “Okay, we’re all done!” Dr. Stacy said, smiling broadly. “We’ll take your husband to the recovery room. It’ll probably be an hour or two before he is fully awake. What you do until then is up to you, Kaitlyn. Personally, I would suggest you try out the facilities while you’re here. There are some sexy, virile black bucks here tonight!”

  I smiled. “I think I will!”

  I thought about joining in the group sex we’d watched below the glass window, but I decided that a private encounter would be best for my first time. I walked into the Meeting Room and I was happily surprised at the selection available. Eight sexy black men were all vying for my attention. Every one of them was tall, handsome, and sexy with a long, thick cock hanging between his legs. Even flaccid they were longer and thicker than my husband’s little white penis when it is erect! I picked one with very dark skin, a sexy glimmer in his eye, and a very sexy swagger. He said his name was Marcus. He took my hand and led me to Private Room 9.

  Private Room 9 had a bed with a sheet, no blankets, and a couple of pillows on the hardwood floor. In the corner was a bathroom. Marcus immediately kissed me, and he led me to the bed. He took off my blouse while I shimmied out of my skirt. I was wearing only a camisole, panties, and nylons with garters at that point – all black.

  I got down onto my knees and took Marcus’s mighty cock in my hands. That cock was so thick, almost as large around as a beer bottle, and I estimated it must be at least nine inches long. I stroked it with my hands, and it slithered and stiffened. His cock was complemented by a pair of large heavy balls slung below, and I stroked them with my fingers as I licked and sucked on his cock head. It wasn’t long before Marcus’s black monster was fully erect, pointing at me firm and menacing.

  Marcus instructed me to lay down. I lifted my hips as he removed my panties. He gave a quick little lick to my pussy, and then moved up on top of me. He lined his huge cock at my entrance. Marcus leaned down and kissed me, so I didn’t see his cock slide inside of me. But I definitely felt it. I’d only been with my husband Jacob and his little Vienna sausage. (He claims that its five inches long but honestly it’s more like four.) Taking this oversized kielbasa was an amazing pleasure as it split me open, filling me fully and providing the most desirable pressure all over. I climaxed almost immediately.

  I raised my legs up against Marcus’s body and put my arms around him, holding his powerful chest against me. That horse cock was thrusting relentlessly inside of me, thundering mightily, touching places I’d never felt touched before. He was so big, my pussy so tightly filled that my clit was pulled against his shaft with each inward thrust, giving me the stimulation necessary to climax. I could only orgasm from cunnilingus with Jacob, but now I was finally able to climax from intercourse, cumming uncontrollably with a real man’s cock. I rolled through one long orgasm after another, the most ecstatic pleasure I’ve ever experienced.

  Finally, Marcus pushed his manhood deep inside of me and emptied his load, filling my soaking wet cunt to overflow with his virile African seed. I smiled, gazing admiringly at Marcus as we kissed in a post-coital embrace, his semen slowly dripping out of my pussy and onto the sheets.

  Marcus ran his fingers through my hair. “That was great. I hope to see you again.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “I’m going to be a regular at the Club from now on.”

  I got out of bed and went into t
he bathroom. I noticed that there was a shower in there, so I jumped inside. After a quick rinse, I went to the recovery room to see my husband.

  Jacob smiled when I walked inside the room. He was a little groggy, but happy to see me. “How was your first time with a black guy?” he asked.

  “Amazing,” I said, smiling ear to ear. “The best sex ever!”

  I normally wouldn’t have admitted that, trying not to hurt his feelings. But Jacob made me promise never to lie to him about my sex life, to tell him everything and treat him as “my best girlfriend.” And now that he was castrated, we wouldn’t need to worry about jealousy anymore – we could both enjoy our new sex life together as a perfect union, hotwife and cuckold.

  “I can’t wait to see you in action,” Jacob said. “And I can only imagine seeing you pregnant by a strong black stud. Watching your belly growing with a black baby and watching it nursing on your breasts…”

  “I know honey,” I said, giving him a kiss. “It will be so intense for both of us!”

  THE BLACK BAD BOY

  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.

  * * *

  “Your room is really nice,” I said. Ashley, my niece, was living in a co-ed frat house. Her room was sparely decorated and had two beds, one for her and one for her roommate who was out at the time.