MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH

  “Thanks, Aunt Jasmine,” she replied. She slipped her hands inside the back pockets of her jeans and looked at her room approvingly. Although she was my niece, she was just eight years younger than me and more like a little sister to me. “I like my roommate so far, and my classes, so I’m pretty happy at State.”

  “What about the boys here? Are you dating anyone?”

  Ashley just rolled her eyes. “People don’t date at college anymore. You just hook up.”

  It was well enough. Frankly, being in a relationship when I went to State was one of my regrets. I’d gotten into a relationship with a boy soon after starting college, and we were together the whole time and ended up getting married. Although Daniel is a wonderful man and a great father to our two young children, I’d always believed that I’d missed out on the chance to date some different kinds of guys. As they say, there’s the kind of guy you date and there’s the kind of guy you marry. While Daniel is a nice guy and he’s makes a good living, he doesn’t have the sexiness or attractiveness of a bad boy.

  “That’s cool,” I said. “You don’t need a boyfriend. Are there any guys that you’re hooking up with? I mean, do you have a ‘friend with benefits’ or a ‘fuck buddy’?”

  “Jasmine!” Ashley blushed. “No, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

  Just then, a handsome young black guy stood in the doorway behind me. He was shirtless.

  “Hey, Ash,” he said, “thanks for letting me borrow that. I’ll get you back.” The guy was about 6’2” tall, not too muscular but with a nice athletic build. His scent was a nice cologne that I couldn’t recognize and he wore expensive jeans and shoes. He also had a sexy smile, which I loved.

  “Don’t mention it,” Ashley said.

  “Who are you?” he asked, checking me out up and down. “You’re looking fine, girl.”

  I smiled, elated. Even after having two kids, I’ve managed to stay thin. With dirty blonde hair, firm b-cup breasts and a nice figure, I still turn my share of heads.

  “Jasmine, this is Dante,” Ashley explained. “Dante, this is Jasmine. She’s technically my aunt, even though she’s in her mid-twenties.”

  “Nice to meet you Jasmine,” he said, nodding slowly. “So, are you going to be around here tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” I hadn’t thought it out that far, wanting to feel the vibe from Ashley. “Why?”

  “I’m the house social director. We’re having a little party here tonight.” His eyes gazed up and down my body, and I felt myself immensely attracted to him. He simply radiated sexuality. “We’ll have beer pong, pizza, that sort of thing. If you want to come,” he paused, looking into my eyes, “I would love to have you.”

  “Yes, I want that, too,” I said, returning his gaze. “I’ll be here.” Although I wasn’t planning on cheating on my husband, I wanted him to know that the attraction was mutual. I think he could sense it.

  Ashley and I spent the next few hours touring the campus, hearing about her life at the university and reminiscing about my own experiences there. Finally, around seven o’clock, we returned to the house.

  Loud music was blasting and all the rooms in the common areas were filled with students holding plastic cups, talking and laughing. We pressed our way through the crowd to the keg and we poured ourselves cups of beer. By the time we’d finished our second beers, Ashley had been approached by a nice looking guy and they were talking. She seemed a little unsure if she should ignore me to focus on him, but I signaled to her that it was okay. I poured a third beer from the keg and made my way through the crowd to the bathroom.

  When I got out, I saw Dante holding a bottle of Corona while chatting with somebody. When he saw me, his eyes lit up and he walked over to me. We were near the stereo system, and even though he was speaking loudly, I couldn’t make out much of what he said. After a few attempts, he pointed up toward the ceiling, then motioned for me to follow. I walked behind him through the crowd and up the staircase two floors.

  “Damn, that music is loud,” he said as we walked down the hallway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m showing you my room,” he said. “It’s quiet in there. We can talk.”

  As soon as we got inside, he closed the door behind me, embraced me and began kissing me. I was shocked, though I shouldn’t have been – and wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t had three beers on an empty stomach. As he held my body close to his and ran his hands over me, I was getting so wet in my crotch. Feeling his hard, strong body against mine was intoxicating. I decided it was okay if we kissed, as long as we didn’t have sex. I ran my hands all over his shoulders, back and ass, and I kissed him passionately. My tongue was dancing around his in my mouth. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the floor.

  We both moved onto the bed, and he quickly removed my jeans. I still was wearing my panties, I figured, so it was still okay. The bed was unmade and musty smelling, and I would never have been there if I’d been sober but I was so turned on that I didn’t even care. As we made out, he licked two fingers and slipped them under my panties. His fingers roamed over my clit, toggling it just the right way. But I needed more.

  “Put your fingers inside,” I said.

  Dante removed my panties and then he knelt at my crotch. He stuck two fingers inside of me, thrusting them in and out. I hadn’t planned on going this far but it was just playing around, I figured, not sex. Then he leaned forward and started licking my clit. In a matter of minutes, I felt a powerful orgasm roll over my body. Then he stood up stood up, dropped his jeans and his underwear. I was going to tell him to stop, but I was shocked at what I saw. Dante had an uncircumcised cock that was easily twice as long as my husband’s and four times as thick.

  Although I knew I shouldn’t do it, that I was a married woman, I didn’t resist. His dark ebony body crawled on top of me, and I just lifted my legs up and spread my hips wide, offering him open access. He put that big cock at my cunt and worked his way inside, inch by inch. I need lubrication with my husband, but I was incredibly wet for this handsome, sexy hunk. In just a few strokes he was fully inside of me.

  I didn’t expect it at all, but feeling a large cock inside of me was a revelation, a totally different kind of sex. Dante leaned in and we kissed wildly as his black weapon thundered inside of me. I don’t know if was the angle or what, but my clit was totally being stimulated just from intercourse. I’d always believed that it was impossible to orgasm from intercourse alone, but this well-endowed stud brought me off easily to three glorious climaxes.

  Dante put my legs over his shoulders and jack hammered my cunt hard. I could tell from his breathing that he was nearing his climax.

  “Don’t come inside me, baby,” I told him. “Cum on my belly. I’m not on birth control.” After the birth of our youngest child, I had my husband get a vasectomy. Obviously I hadn’t planned on having sex with anybody else, so I wasn’t prepared.

  Dante nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m there, baby. I’m right there, right there.” His face grimaced, his words fast and tortured. He grunted, pressed his cock deep inside of me, and kissed me. Although I kissed him back, even though my drunken haze, I knew this was dangerous. His large virile black balls, pressed against my ass cheeks, were jerking violently as they filled my womb with hundreds of millions of his African sperm. Deep down I felt certain that I was being impregnated right then.

  Dante rolled off next to me onto his stomach. “Damn,” he said, “I need a nap.”

  I cuddled next to him. I pulled the sheet up just enough to cover our asses, then we lay there for a short while, holding hands. I couldn’t sleep with the music pounding through the walls, not to mention feeling wide awake after just having sex. Somehow Dante managed to catch a quick nap, though. He woke up, looked at the clock on the dresser, then said, “That was some good shit, baby, but I need to get back to the party.”

  He jumped out of bed and threw his clothes back on. “Hey, take your time. No rush. I’ll be down there.”
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  When Dante closed the door, I slowly got out of bed. I put my clothes back on and walked downstairs. When I got down there, it was obvious from the looks that everybody knew what had gone on between me and Dante.

  Ashley walked up to me, a huge grin on her face. “Way to go, auntie! You should come back for more of our parties!”

  LIVING IN THE COMMUNE

  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 Isaiah, a forty-year-old straight white male. I’m married to Gabrielle, who is also forty. We have ten children and she’s currently pregnant with our eleventh. That’s pretty unusual but that’s far from the most unusual part of our lifestyle – for nearly twenty years, we have lived in a commune.

  Gabrielle and I both were born and raised in California. We both grew up as progressives and Gabrielle is the child of hippies. Her parents grew up experimenting with sex and drugs, and they’ve said many times that their biggest regret is that they never joined a commune. I looked into it and found out that there are still some communes in existence today. The one that really caught my eye in the Green Collective in South Carolina.

  From what I’d read, it would cost $100 per month to live in the Collective but everything else was taken care of. I spoke with James, a nice guy and one of the hippies who had been around the longest and who was in charge. He said that the residents often were collecting government checks. As it happened, I had an annuity from a car accident that was more than enough to cover Gabrielle and me, and I was also disabled and collecting SSI. Although the money I was collecting was pretty meager, it was more than enough to sustain us in the Collective. James said they’d be happy to have us join. We were both twenty-one at the time and decided that we would leave everything we had in California and drive out to the Collective.

  When I arrived, I noticed that the place wasn’t particularly clean, though I expected that. It was made up of tents and ramshackle wooden buildings and sitting on over a thousand acres of farm land. But what surprised me was seeing the workers in the field. They were all dark-skinned black people wearing cheap clothing and head coverings. It looked like I’d time-travelled back to slave days.

  James, who was Caucasian, explained to me that originally the commune had been white but over time the population changed. Now there were four hundred people in the commune and he was the only white person there. Even his wife Lucille was black. But other than that it seemed like the other communes I’d read about – choosing the natural over the artificial and living sustainably.

  When we met the people, they were all very pleasant and welcoming. I could see the attraction, though, in the faces of the black men. Although all ages were present, there seemed to be a lot of couples in their forties and fifties. And the couples seemed to have a lot of children. I learned from James that a lot of the children would leave as adults and not return, so we were unusual to join the Collective as adults. I also knew that the Collective practiced free love, so we wouldn’t be monogamous, and that they discouraged birth control. They even had a Midwifery building to assist with births.

  When we were assigned our room (actually a large tent), we found that we would be sharing the room with two other couples. We introduced ourselves and found them to be very nice. The older couple was Willy and Bernice, who were in their sixties. The younger couple was Marvin and Betty and they were in their forties. While I spoke with Betty, Marvin was having a conversation with Gabrielle. Soon they walked outside together.

  Betty was a beautiful black woman in her forties with a graying 1970s afro. We chatted about my family in California and the life we were leaving behind. I learned that Betty had twelve children. She explained that while Marvin is said to be the father of her children, she sleeps with many men in the Collective so she doesn’t really know for sure. In any case, the Collective raises the children together and they consider them to be all of their children.

  About ten minutes later, Marvin and Gabrielle returned to our room. She said that Marvin wants to have sex with her tonight and she hoped that I would be okay with it. Although I knew this would happen, I felt a little uneasy about it. But I didn’t want to appear racist or jealous, so I assured her that I supported it.

  That night, I stepped outside of the tent and smoked a joint with Willy. He said it was great stuff and they grow it secretly at the Collective. I enjoyed it a lot but it felt strange, and I wondered if the joint contained more than just weed. Inside the tent, I could hear my twenty-one-year-old wife moaning in pleasure as Marvin, a black man more than twice her age, was having sex with her.

  “Oh God, it’s so big,” she exclaimed. “It hurts. Slow down.”

  “I’ll go slowly,” I heard Marvin say. “You’ll get used to it. Black dick is big.”

  Willy was smiling big at me, puffing on the joint. He handed it to me and I took another drag. I tried to play it cool but I was worried. I’d always used condoms with Gabrielle back in California but now that we were living in the Collective, we were rejecting artificial living. Although I was aroused and my penis was rock hard, I was seriously worried that Marvin might be getting her pregnant.

  “Oh God, I’m coming!” I heard my wife cry out in orgasm three times. I didn’t think she had it in her. The most I’d ever gotten her off was once. I walked over to the door to the tent.

  “I’m coming, baby,” Marvin groaned, on top of my wife. She was moaning loudly, her white legs were up in the air, gently running her hands over his black ass as she received his sperm deep inside of her. Betty was in her own bed, on her side and smiling as she watched her husband finish making love to Gabrielle. She didn’t seem jealous at all.

  Marvin rose out of bed, walked over to Betty and then began making love to her. I joined Gabrielle in my bed, her face flush, her body sweaty from her love making. I saw a trail of semen leaking down pussy down her ass crack. I got on top of her, slipped my penis inside of her, and thrusted inside her. The feeling of taking her bare was incredible, especially knowing that my penis was bathing in her black lover’s semen. Gabrielle looked up at me dreamily, her arms around my shoulders. “He was really good,” she said. “I’ve never had a big cock like that before. It was dreamy!” I only lasted a few minutes before I came inside of her.

  The next night Gabrielle had sex with Willy. He also sported a large cock but it took him a while to get fully erect, probably because he was sixty-five. My wife didn’t really mind, though, taking her time licking on his shaft and sucking his testicles until he was ready. He had her get on her hands and knees and he fucked her doggy style. (His back was bad and he couldn’t do many positions.) But he reached around and fingered her clit while he fucked her, and he gave her three orgasms.

  Gabrielle was beautiful, young and white, so she generated a lot of attention from the men. She was constantly approached for sex and she didn’t want to turn anybody down, and it was difficult at first managing all of the relationships. But she managed to schedule it and was able to cement us into Collective through her relationships. Only about half of the guys had large cocks but even the ones with average sized cocks pleased her.

  For my part, I found myself having sex a lot with Betty. She didn’t seem to mind that my penis is a bit short and thin. Just the idea of making love to a younger white man seemed to please her. And it wasn’t just sex – Betty and I shared a real ro
mantic connection. After a few months, I moved into Betty’s bed and Marvin began sleeping the night with Gabrielle.

  Of course, Marvin was still only one of her lovers, as she was bedding dozens of black men. It was free love and my beautiful white wife was in high demand. “I never realized how much I love variety,” she told me once as we cuddled. “Each man is different in the way he moves, the way he makes love. I would never want to give up my lovers. Monogamy is fine for some people but it’s just not for me.” A few months later, we learned that she was pregnant with our first child. When the baby was born, the boy looked just like Marvin.

  As I said, Gabrielle and I have ten children together. They are all beautiful, happy, healthy and black. Gabrielle tells me that she thinks I might be the biological father of the baby she is carrying, but she doubts it because there are six other men who are possibilities. I spent most of my time having sex with Betty who was too old to have children, so it’s not surprising that the only mulatto children born during our time at the Collective were carried by Gabrielle.

  The biology doesn’t matter, though. Gabrielle and I are living honestly and naturally, and I’m proud to be the father of ten children, and soon eleven. My wife has shared herself openly and freely, and she’s been rewarded with plenty of offspring. We’re so happy that we left mainstream society and embraced an organic lifestyle and we wouldn’t change a thing!

  THE HALLOWEEN MIX-UP

  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.