MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance
Page 181
Although I’m only masturbating now, I get so turned on by the naughty things that Jasmine says in bed, telling Ezrah how much better a lover he is and how great his cock feels inside of her. She’d always been quiet in bed with me, and I had no idea that there was a powerful engine inside of her that just needed the right key to turn on. I have to admit that hearing the incredible sounds of joy that Jasmine makes while having sex with Ezrah makes me realize the beauty of the Church’s teachings. I’m thinking of converting!
SHE HAD TWO BLACK BABIES
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 David. My wife Ashley and I are both in our late twenties and we recently got married. We couldn’t be happier.
My family doesn’t understand why I married my wife her. “She has two babies by another man. Why don’t you find a woman without any children?”
In my opinion, their real concern isn’t the fact that she was a single mother – they were unhappy that both our son and daughter are black. I told them that I loved her and I didn’t care. They didn’t understand it when I signed the affidavits of paternity after each birth, making me their legal father and putting my name on the birth certificate.
They all think I’m crazy. But Ashley and I planned all of this from the beginning.
We told our families that Ashley and I were just friends until a year ago. In fact, we’d secretly been boyfriend and girlfriend since we were in college. Shortly after we began dating, Ashley was approached by Winslow, a middle aged black man. The guy drove a Mercedes and he clearly had money. When he asked if Ashley would like to join him with front row seats at an NBA game, she asked me whether it would be okay. I told her to go for it – I was turned on by the idea of her dating another guy, especially a black guy, and if she felt that she could do it without it hurting our relationship I would support her in it.
At first Ashley seemed a little wary, asking if I was allowing her to date another man because I secretly wanted to date other women. But we spent all night talking about it and agreed upon ground rules. One of the rules was that she needed to be completely honest with me, sharing every detail and talking to me about her dates like she’d talk to her best girlfriend. We decided that we’d tell people that Ashley and I were just dating, not in an exclusive relationship, and that I just wasn’t dating anybody else at the moment.
Ashley had a great time at the basketball game. Later that night, she stayed over at Winslow’s home. When I saw her the next day, she told me that she was sore from having sex with her older black lover. She was a little hesitant to tell me all of the details because she didn’t want to hurt me, but I reminded her about our agreement and assured her that I wanted to know everything.
Ashley admitted that Winslow’s cock was enormous, far larger and thicker than mine, and it felt amazing inside of her. “It touched all the right places, stretching and filling me completely. It was the best sex of my life.” She confessed that his cock felt far better than mine, but insisted that she still enjoyed making love with me and my penis was nice, too.
Although her words felt like a kick in the stomach, I knew that she was being honest and I wanted to know the truth. No matter how painful it felt, I was also very turned on by what she’d told me and my little white penis was now impossibly stiff and aching. When we got into bed, I only lasted a few minutes before I added my semen into her wet, soiled snatch.
Winslow wasn’t just an amazing lover. He paid for Ashley’s college education and even gave her spending money, along with jewelry and occasional trinkets. I loved hearing her stories about going to the most expensive restaurants around, sporting events, and even going on vacation with him. He was also a mentor, providing her with career advice and the perspective that a successful older businessman can provide.
Just before we were set to graduate college, Ashley and I were talking about getting married the next year, and how we’d need to tell people that we’ve decided to be more than just friends. But it was right around then that Winslow asked Ashley to have his baby. Of course, he offered to pay for the child’s day care, expenses and education. Ashley confessed to me that she really wanted to have Winslow’s children but she also wanted me to be her husband and have my children. We had several discussions about it and finally decided that Ashley would have a baby with Winslow. Later, after the child was born, we would start officially dating.
Ashley put me in condoms and went off the pill. I hadn’t used condoms before and I had some trouble maintaining an erection, and even when I could it took a long time to come because of the reduced sensation. Luckily, it only took a few months for Ashley to get pregnant. The ultrasound showed that it was a boy. During the pregnancy, Ashley was pretty sick the whole time and she only had sex with Winslow. (She showed some medical studies to me that it’s important for the mother to take the biological father’s DNA inside of her throughout the pregnancy to prevent preeclampsia.) When the baby was born, nobody from my family even knew I was at the hospital. Winslow cut the cord and left, while I stayed with Ashley. A couple days later, we left the hospital with our little bundle of joy.
Soon after, though, Winslow said that he wanted to try for a baby girl. I found myself back in condoms. This time it took six months. I was getting pretty tired of wearing the rubbers and was happy and relieved when I learned that my girl was again pregnant with her black lover’s baby. When we learned that the baby would be a girl, we were even happier. (We’d talked about whether, if it was a boy, we’d let him try again!) I was hoping that she’d go back on the pill after the birth, but her doctor told her that she should breast feed for at least 12 months and that the birth control pill reduces the amount of breast milk. I was so happy when, a year after our daughter’s birth, she started taking the pill again and I was able to enjoy Ashley bare again.
We’re married now and live in a little house in the suburbs. Although our finances are tight, “Uncle Winston” has given us over ten thousand dollars and that’s helped a lot. When he comes over to the house, he stays the night with Ashley in our bedroom while I sleep on the couch. Sometimes I listen in, though. I’m surprised at how vocal she is in bed with him, not just moaning but even talking dirty.
Ashley’s on the pill so we’re not worried about any more children from Winslow. We’ve talked about having a child of our own, but Ashley has just now gone back to work full-time and she’s trying to establish herself in her career. Besides, she says, we just spent the last five years changing diapers and now that the kids are potty-trained, she’s not in any hurry to go back. We’ll probably have another baby at some point, though. In the meantime, we’re a very happy family.
SHE MARRIED HER BLACK BABY DADDY
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 tw
enty-one years of age or older. All rights reserved.
* * *
I’m twenty-three years old and Morgan, the love of my life, is twenty-one. We’d been dating for a few years and I thought everything was perfect. We were very much in love. The love making was great, too. For the first two years of our relationship, we made love about four or five times a week.
About a year ago, I started noticing that we were intimate less frequently. It was only happening about twice a week, and then it dropped to about once every ten days. I’d heard this often happens after years of being married, especially after having children, but we were still young and free. What had changed?
“I’ve been working late, John,” my wife said. “I just don’t have the energy for sex right now.” That made sense but she was on her cell phone a lot now, messaging with her girlfriends. She would turn away from me to text and if I came near, she’d put it away. I wondered if something more was going on.
I started to get a little suspicious. When Morgan would work late, she would always come home and go straight into the shower. One time, while she was in the shower, I pulled her clothes out of the hamper. Sure enough, her panties were sticky and funky smelling, coated with semen. I could also smell cologne on her blouse. At that point, I was starting to wonder if Morgan was having an affair.
The thing is, I had already bought her an engagement ring and I had reservations at a fancy restaurant downtown. I decided to go ahead and propose to her. She accepted, and we set our wedding for June. Everything was great with us again, and we began having sex more frequently, once a week and sometimes even twice.
Then in March, just a few months before the wedding, Morgan started feeling sick. She took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I was excited but she seemed very distraught. I asked her what was wrong but she wouldn’t answer me for a couple of days. Instead she was distant, spending a lot of time on the phone talking privately with her girlfriends and texting. Finally, she sat me down.
“John, there’s something you need to know,” Morgan said. “I’ve been having an affair. And I’m pretty sure that you’re not the father of my baby.”
It felt like a punch in the gut. Morgan explained that a guy named Tyus had started at her company about a year ago. He was quite a ladies’ man and had bedded a number of the young women in her office, and the rumor was that he was well hung and an amazing lover. Morgan said she’d always secretly found black guys attractive and Tyus was especially handsome, sexy and sexual. She’d wondered what it was like to have sex with a black guy. Tyus kept hitting on her and she would flirt back but ultimately tell him no. Eventually he wore her down, though, and they finally had sex in his office on his desk. She felt terrible but the sex was amazing, and she didn’t want to give it up.
“Tyus is an amazing lover,” she said, holding my hand. “His cock is so big and it really feels incredible inside of me. It was easily the best sex of my life and I enjoyed every second in bed with Tyus, but the sex was never as important to me as you.” I kissed Morgan and told her that I felt the same way. I assured her that, even if the baby is black, I would raise it as my own.
The three of us took a prenatal DNA test. I knew that I’d had sex with Morgan one time during the week where she had gotten pregnant, so I had a chance. The test results came back and I was excluded, while there was a 99.99% chance that Tyus was the father. I again assured Morgan that it was okay, and we would raise the child as our own.
However, Morgan told our little secret to her sister, who then informed her parents. Morgan’s father called us and said that Tyus needs to do the right thing and marry Morgan, that his grandson should have his father and mother living together. Morgan then called Tyus and there was a flurry of calls and discussions. In the end, we agreed that Tyus would marry Morgan at our wedding in place of me. In the meantime, I would sleep on the couch until I could find a new place to live, while Tyus would move into our bedroom.
When Tyus showed up, I could see why Morgan was so attracted to him. He was tall, athletic, and had a prominent bulge in his shorts. Everything about the way he moved and spoke exuded confidence and sexuality. While sleeping on the couch, I would often hear the noises of Tyus fucking Morgan in the bedroom. The bed would squeak with every mighty thrust, and the headboard would bang in rhythm against the wall. “Oh God, it feels so good,” Morgan would moan. “Fuck me with your big black cock!” My favorite part, of course, is when she’s squeal, “Oh God, Oh God…. I’m cumming,” and then groan loudly for a good minute as she climaxed. She’d always been quiet in bed with me, aside from telling me when she was cumming, but I learned just how loud and sexual Morgan could be with the right man. I liked to leave some hand conditioner next to the couch and jerk off to the sounds of their lovemaking, shooting my splooge into the tissue.
Tyus thanked me for being so understanding and he asked me to be the best man in his wedding. I was given the honor, along with Morgan’s father, of walking her down the aisle and giving her away to Tyus. She looked so beautiful in her pure white wedding dress, a pregnant belly protruding, as she put her little hand into Tyus’s big black one. They were a beautiful couple and they had a great time on their honeymoon, substituting Tyus at the Bahama resort we’d picked. When they returned home, the newlyweds were still making love like crazy. I just signed a lease for a studio apartment so I’ll be moving soon, but I’m going to miss jerking off on the couch listening to my sweet Morgan making love to her sexy black lover. At least I’ll have the memories!
OUR FRIENDS’ SURROGATE
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 don’t know what Owen will say,” my wife Savannah said, speaking into the phone. “But I’ll ask him.”
My wife was chatting with her good friend Korvette Johnson. They were close and occasionally we’d have dinner with Korvette and her husband Tremon. I liked them a lot. The two of them had grown up in the inner city and moved out the suburbs to have a better life. Tremon worked on the line at the plant and Korvette worked a receptionist at a dentist’s office.
Savannah sat me down. “You know how Korvette and Tremon are having trouble conceiving. Well, they went to the doctor and they discovered that she’s the one with the fertility issue. Tremon is fine – a high sperm count with very strong, verile swimmers – but it’s very unlikely that she’ll ever be able to conceive.”
“Okay,” I replied, wondering where she was going with this.
Savannah sighed. “They want to know if I could be the surrogate mother for their baby.”
I was stunned. “What do you think about that?”
“Honestly, I’m flattered. I’d like to help them out.”
“They can afford IVF? I thought their health coverage isn’t so good.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Savannah said, running her fingers up my leg. “They can’t afford that. It would need to be done the natural way.”
“You mean he would…?” Tremon was an incredibly attractive man. Tall and muscular, he was projected to be a top draft pick for the NFL before suffering a career-ending injury at college. There were always women checking him out and smiling at him, and I could tell that Savannah found him attractive as well. “It wouldn’t even be Korvette’s baby. It would be yours.”
“They know that,” she said. “But they really want child
ren. Can we help them out?”
I was conflicted about it, but I did want to help out the Johnsons. And for some reason, the thought of my white having sex with the sexy Tremon. After a number of discussions about it, I finally agreed. When we went to the grocery store, Savannah snatched a large box of Trojans and tossed it into the cart.
“If you’re trying to get pregnant by him, why do you need condoms?” I asked.
Savannah smiled. “Those aren’t for him, silly. Those are for you.” Ever since I’d met her, Savannah had been on the pill. We hadn’t been planning on starting a family for a while so birth control wasn’t an issue. But now she was going off the pill, so she was putting me in condoms.
A couple nights later, Tremon and Korvette stopped by our house. I sat down with Korvette and we shared some decaffeinated coffee while talking about life. Savannah threw her hands up around Tremon’s neck and they French kissed before going into our bedroom. Korvette and I were having a great conversation when I heard their voices coming through the air vents.
“Damn, Tremon, it’s huge! Your cock is a fucking monster!”
“Yeah, it’s nine and a half inches.”
“It’s nearly as thick as a coke can! I can’t wait to feel it inside of me. My husband’s penis is so small.”
Korvette laughed. “Yeah, Tremon is a big boy. He’s so big that sometimes I feel like I can’t take all of it.”