Author’s Note: What follows below is a commissioned fictional story.
This story contains themes of interracial sex, non-consensual sexual activities, and sex outside of marriage. If these themes offend you, the Author advises you to seek other content more to your liking on this website.
This story is written to include some aspects of sexuality and race that the Author does not personally believe in or adhere to. There will be descriptions and additional prose that some readers may find unnecessary or tedious, however, they are included at the Client’s request. This story is a matter of pure fiction, however, the names used were provided by the Client, and used at the Client’s request. The Author has no way of knowing if the names used are related to real individuals or not, and does not accept any liability in such an occurrence. The Author retains full copyrights and other legal protections.
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I Hate Those Guys
A White Wife is Forced to Love Black Cock
“I hate guys like that.” I said, some venom in my voice. It was true. I could not stand them, socially. Part of it was the way I was raised in Alabama. It gave me a killer accent, but some strong views on how people interacted. Part of it was that it was the year 1999, and white women simply just didn’t socialize with black men. They were too dangerous to be around, as all they wanted was one thing. I believed that they had a ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em’ mentality. I didn’t want to be any part of that. So why was my husband telling me he wanted to watch me have sex with black guys?
I mean, we had been married for 7 years now, and maybe it was his version of that 7-year itch? He wasn’t cheating on me, that much was certain. So maybe I wasn’t enough for him anymore? A possibility. But I wasn’t sure why I should be mad, and at whom. Was it me, for not being ‘wife-enough’ to satisfy my man, or was it that his own needs had grown into a wild and extreme desire for me to be debased and humiliated? I was stopped in though, all of these things rushing through my mind as we sat at the kitchen table on a Saturday morning, after a nice Friday night date-night.
Our date night was great, actually. I looked great, and felt great, and my husband had stepped up and even worn a suit. We went to a nice dinner, and then dancing, and just enjoyed each other’s company. Some light necking in the booth of the dance club and drinks just gave me a feeling of letting my hair down, and enjoying being a wife to an amazing man!
I had worn one of his favorite outfits, a shimmering silky black and very tight dress that zippered from the front, reaching all the way up from the hem to the high-necked collar, giving my butt had a nice curve to it, and my legs were well displayed in my 4-inch black patent leather stilettos. I usually left the dress a third-of-the way un-done, to expose my D-cupped cleavage, though it eliminated the possibility of a bra. With my shoulder-blade length brown hair pulled up in a French Twirl, exposing my neck and adding a seemingly few more inches to my shoe-assisted 5 foot-eight inch and slender frame, I did look pretty good. I had to admit that age 25, I felt proud to admit I ‘still had it’. Plus, it was fun to be a little bit of a tease for my husband. My husband, Robert, was a decent-looking guy, certainly not for the cover of GQ magazine, but he had a great smile, wonderful eyes, and while he was taller in size, his physique could have used some gym-time. But as ***-bods went, he looked good, only he wasn’t a father, yet. We were working on it. His stamina was also good for the bedroom, though he was more of a one-and-done kind of guy. But with his hair combed, and freshly shaved, I couldn’t say no to him. As long as he was wanting me for himself. But that was his problem. He didn’t want that, and worse, he was wanting me to be having sex with black guys.
I got a fair amount of looks, and a few stares, and while we were on the dance floor, more than once my butt was ‘accidently’ brushed or even cupped softly. But that went with the territory on a crowded dance floor, so I gave it little mind, except to elevate my ego. It made me feel more feminine towards my husband, and it helped our amorous activity at home. We never made it even to the bedroom, before my dress was un-zipped and I was lying on my back in front of the TV, getting it on.
Flat on my back, his body on his knees between my spread thighs, he reached and drew down the zipper holding my dress together and when finally released, the tight material popped open with a soft pop, exposing my body to my husband. His hands went to my nipples and he began to pinch them and my body mewed as he sent a burning pleasure through me, while my hands reached for his arms, the only part I could really reach.
Suitably arousing my ample bosom, he then slid his hands down my ribcage, and then my stomach, slowly feeling me as I lay there, purring at his touch. He was my man, and I was his woman, and just his touch meant so very much to me. I let my hands fall from his arms to above my head, a gesture of supplication to him, and a signal that I belonged to him. His one hand began to slid lower, to my heat, and cup my vulva, and slide slowly up and down, my lips parting as I gasped softly, my thighs opening even further, to give him full access to my body.
My heart was already beating hard, and I let my mind just wallow in the pleasure he was feeding me, knowing it would get even better. Soon my petals were engorged and swollen, and my moisture was coating his palm, his rough, calloused hand titillating me even more. Our eyes never left each other’s gaze, and we shared a silent communication between to lovers and two people deeply in love. His finger then slid towards my folds, and the gentle pressure parted my gates, allowing him to slide inside me, slowly, and tease my pussy before he opened my body and began to curl his finger inside my opening, and send blasts of passion through me. My voice was much louder as he did this, no doubt sharing his ability to please, and even control me.
My white-knuckled fists were still above my head, as my hips undulated and rocked, eager to have more of him.
“Do it, Honey. Fuck me. Stick your dick in me, and make me a mama…” I purred in my best come-hither voice. “Cum in me and knock me up!”
We had started working on our ****** only recently, and in the past, he had always needed to wear a condom, so going in bare and unprotected with me was a treat for him, and it motivated him mightily. I also had to admit that it was arousing for me, too, to know I was doing so natural an act with my husband. His pants already off, he literally ripped his shirt open, buttons popping everywhere, and he then slid his boxers down, releasing his erection. I looked down, to admire his manhood. I wasn’t a virgin when we married, and he wasn’t the biggest man I had experienced, but he had a nice six-plus inches to him, and more to the point, he was mine, and I adored him, and it.
He began to mount me almost instantly, rubbing the head of his cock along my slit, until I was almost begging him to fuck me, and then he engaged with my opening and slid into my tight passage. His initial thrust made me gasp, long and softly, as my eyes fluttered closed, my head falling back in the carpet as I began to hear colors and see sounds. I love him, and I loved his cock, and to be one person for the short time we would be was what I viewed as the closest I could get to Heaven without actually being there. It took him several firm, slow and deliberate thrusts to feed his body into mine, forcing my flexing love canal to accept his hot, throbbing rod, and I squeaked sensually as his public bone smacked my clit, the pearl emerging from the protective cape protecting it. Soon he began to cycle his hips and we began to make love. I as moaning and mewing as he took me, and I began to share some dirty pillow-talk, to arouse him further.
“Fuck me, Robert... fuck me hard. A man was feeling me up… under my dress…” I began to tease him. “Rubbing my ass as I danced with you…” His pace was growing harder. “A total stranger…groping me as we danced.” I purred sexily. His thrusts became more forceful, making my voice break at times as his pile-driving of his cock inside me jolted my frame, impacting my breath. “He wanted... to fuck me… at the club.” That was the end of it, as his hips started to pound me and I lost the ability to think and speak more clearly, so I gave it up and just endured his passion, my voice growing into louder wails as we mated. Too soon, he roared out and he climaxed, burying his cock fully into me as he spewed his sticky cum into my vagina, perhaps a lucky shot coating my cervix, or perhaps not, and maybe dribbling along the walls of my slickness. For me, while I felt very good, it wasn’t an orgasm for me. I often didn’t, simply because I had greater stamina than he did, and it was so easy for me to push him over the edge. It was a double-edged sword, in that I loved to arouse, tease, please and ultimately make love with Robert, but at the same point I hadn’t learned how to try and help control his passions, so I could make sure I got mine as he got his.
“Darlene…” he began following up with me between kisses. “It is just hot to think about. You naked under him, as he is giving it to you but good. His black skin rubbing naked against yours. You are my trophy wife, and I don’t want my trophy to sit on a shelf!” He tried his disarming smile. Normally, it might have worked. Except it was his fantasy to see me with Marlin. Marlin was a black man my husband knew. I didn’t know where they had met, or gotten acquainted, but it had to be through work or something. Robert and I spent most of our free time together, or socializing with friends, and Marlin wasn’t exactly part of our social circle. Single guys didn’t hang with our crowd. But I had met him once, and he was about as dark-skinned as they come. He had this ‘something’ in his demeanor. Arrogant, maybe, or just overly-confident. Obviously, he had never been married, because a wife would have knocked that attitude right out of him! He was tall like my husband, and I had to guess about the same build, though I had no clue about his cock, and I definitely didn't want to know about that.
I narrowed my eyes, as inwardly I was seething. But I couldn’t blow up at him, he had simply made a request. Not to mention he was still laying atop me, pinning me to the floor as his manhood continued to drain inside me, and I wanted every drop he could give me. I was just against it from a values standpoint. Besides, I didn’t want to be some one-night stand filthy slut. I valued myself more than that. I was well-educated, had a degree in education, and was teaching sixth-graders at a school within a 20-minute commute. I had to teach values to younger minds daily, and it helped to live them, myself. While I would never discriminate against any of my few black students, I would never go to bed with one of their fathers. Ever. It wasn’t appropriate, especially for a white married woman.
The next morning, we sat at the breakfast table, after eating a light meal, a small pile of buttons from last night on the table.
“Give it a rest, Robert…” I spoke with an annoyance in my tone. “You are the only man I want, regardless of what color his skin is. Why do you want me to be with another man? Especially a black one?”
“I dunno.” he replied. “Guys talk about it at work, and I think a guy on the third floor is already having his wife doing it, and from what he says, it is blazing hot. It’s just a turn-on to think about. Seeing you like that just gets me aroused.”
“I’m not fucking a black man, Robert. The ones I have met are filthy, perverted assholes that I wouldn’t give the time of day to. Much less my body. Besides, this is a very wrong time for us to be even thinking about such a thing. I mean, what if I get pregnant by one? What will everyone say? Especially my ******? They’ll practically dis-own me!”
I rose from my seat, the long, silky pink satin robe flowing from my body, un-sashed as I went to refill my coffee. It let my husband see what he was entitled to see. I was a good wife, after all, and it was my duty to be a good partner to him. My trim figure was on display as I was only wearing panties underneath, and other than not wearing heels and makeup, I did want to look pretty for him.
“We can talk about it some more later.” He murmured as he had risen behind me and was kissing my neck and shoulder, laying hands on my stomach before feeling my breasts up.
“Much later…” I purred.
We then broke with a kiss and got on with our day.
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The next week went as most do. It started Monday, and soon it was Wednesday and then, out of nowhere, it was Friday. I got home early, not having to do any grading, and was sitting in the ****** room, watching TV while perusing a magazine. My phone chimed with a text alert. I picked it up and swiped it on with my thumb. My brown eyes read the message.
“Forgot to tell you, corporate event 2nite. Pls come dressed up by 6:30. Sry!” and a link to the location was included. Clicking the link brought up a nice, upscale hotel near downtown. I sighed.
“It figures…” I muttered as I replied I would be there, and rose to start getting ready.
I showered and shaved my legs and armpits, then as I let my hair dry naturally, I looked at my body and decided to touch-up my landing strip. I kept my patch of fur at about 1 inch wide, and it stretched up from the top of my vagina to a sharp, squared cut-off where my pubic hair started to thin out. While I was at it, I re-did my toe nails, making them the same bright red my husband liked on my long, perfectly manicured nails. My fingernails were my one pampering I gave myself and I had them done at least once a week, sometimes twice, if I somehow managed to damage one.
I finished my hair off by blow-drying and then brushed it out into a long and wavy fall from my scalp, until it was draping down between my shoulder blades. I made a note to get a trim soon, as it was getting a little long and taking too much time to get ready in the mornings. An inch or two would do. I also applied my makeup, a bit heavier than I normally would, and had to watch a video tutorial online, to remind me how to get that smoky-eyed allure that would match my dress. Then it was time to get dressed.
First came the lingerie, sheer dark stockings, and my black satin garter-belt. It was the foundation for the totally feminine look my husband enjoyed, and following that was my black satin thong. I know the panties are supposed to go on first in the catalogues, under the garter belt, but if I have to take my thong off, say for a bathroom stop, it is way-easier this way. Plus, if I want to be a real tease for my husband, I can slip my thong off pretty much anywhere and slyly slip them into his hand. It drives him crazy knowing I am exposed underneath. Then came decision time for the dress.
Thumbing through my walk-in closet, I had to start the selection process. I had worn my lingerie in that dark color intentionally, to give me flexibility on what color I wore. I started at one end, and started to talk to myself as I perused my wardrobe.
“White long gown? Nah, too formal. My black sequined LBD? Too flashy. Blood-red satin halter dress? Maybe,” I said and then thought “but the skirt was way too wide, and way too short, maybe 2-inches below my ass.” Robert loved it, but the risk of public exposure was far too great. “Emerald green cocktail dress? Maybe.” My sleeveless black cocktail dress? Potential there, my mind considered in my head. Pulling out the green dress, the red one, the black sleeveless one, and an asymmetrical champagne satin one, I spread them out on the bed to ponder. This was getting to be worse than grading student exams.
Holding the green dress up to me, I looked in the mirror and frowned. “Shit.”
It had a stain from the last time I wore it, and I had forgotten to take it to the cleaners. I hoped the stain hadn’t set, and made a mental note to get that dress to the cleaners, tomorrow! Then I tried the sleeveless one. Holding it against me, it just didn’t hit me as a good choice. I needed to be arm-candy, and that meant being a knock-out, and this dress just didn’t say it to me. In fact, I had only worn it once before, and had considered returning it, but never got around to doing that. So now it was red or champagne, and I had to pick my poison. I pulled the Champagne one on, and got all nestled into it. It was very pretty, and silky, and I felt good in it. The back of the dress was hemmed at my feet, and the front was a cascading slit that opened on both sides equally in the middle, the slit ending about 3 inches below my crotch. It was going to do, until I tried to zip it up.
“Fuck!” I cursed myself. It was then I remembered I needed Robert to zip me up, as my hands couldn’t reach. I danced around, fighting the zipper battle for a few minutes, even attaching a paperclip to the zipper clasp to try and help, but it just wasn’t going to work. I was annoyed, because that the dress to wear. Taking it off with a sigh, I shook my head and grumbled. Red it would be.
Pulling it on was easy. High front halter, I didn’t have to worry about my boobs sliding out on accident, as there was plenty of gathered satin to cup them, but there was no support for them, and I couldn’t wear a bra, as the back was too low. In fact, if I had a tan-line, it might have been easily seen. Standing in front of the mirror again, I twisted my hips left and right, watching helplessly as the hem of the dress rose higher and higher. ‘No dancing tonight!’ I firmly decided.
Resigned, I pulled on my blood-red ankle-locked patent leather pumps, adding four inches to my height. I packed my black patent leather clutch, grabbed my black silk bolero and headed out. Getting in my car was an ordeal, as it was a nice evening, but there was a slight breeze, and as I turned to sit into the driver’s seat, the hemline flew up and out, exposing me. Nobody saw me, mind you, but I was irritated. I would be paying very close attention to my skirt all night. Blessedly, traffic was relatively light for a Friday evening and I was only 15 minutes late. Fashionably late in some circles, they would say. I drove up to the front of the hotel, intending to use the valet service, only to see a sign that the valet was full, and that parking was available at the alternate lot across the street and ‘only’ down one block. I was a bit peeved at that, as it meant more walking in my stilettos, and I had already been on my feet at work all day. I had to wear stilettos at work, as I am petite, and at 5-foot-4, I needed the extra inches to be able to at least look down on some of my more rapidly maturing students. Rumor was one of the boys had already become more ’manly’ with one of the girls in another class. It that were true, I would not want to be the parents of either child.
So I paid the lot attendant, and then parked, getting carefully out of my car. Again, the gentle breeze helped my satin skirt float out, and expose me nearly to my waist, and I grimaced and growled as my hands went to push it back down. I could already tell it was going to be one of those nights. I turned and had to bend to get my clutch, and again let the whole world get a look at my behind and lingerie, and more, earning a whistle from some passing man, and a small toot of a horn by a passing car. I was growing to hate downtown. But once I was collected, I slowly strutted my way out of the lot and down the sidewalk, my heels giving me a sultry strut, and my hips that extra sway. The effect on my skirt was also teasing, for the thin and shiny material was swinging to and fro, sometimes giving a glimpse at what was underneath, I was sure. I just had to endure it, and hold my head high and not look as embarrassed as I felt.
Here I was, wearing a dress that I wore when I was trying to get my husband’s attention, only now it was getting the attention of men all around me. Others who were just walking on the same sidewalk, or across the street, all on their own way to their own tasks, looking me over and staring. I heard a few catcalls, and invitations to have sex with them, expressed very crudely. I could not help but look over as I heard a few of them, only to see the denizens of most downtown areas. Homeless men, and even a small encampment of them. I even gave a snort of derision a few times, being obvious to reject them. One car even pulled up beside me and asked me how much I charged for a date! I had a sharp word or three for him, and he roared off. Inwardly, I did kind of smile. It was nice to know that while the invitations were rude, I still had ‘it’.
Finally off the road, and into the hotel, I had yet another ‘wardrobe malfunction’ with my skirt, the interior air-conditioning rushing out the door as I entered, and my skirt billowed up behind me, exposing my rear to everyone who was looking. I couldn’t do anything about it, as my hands were busy with the door and my clutch, but it was again embarrassing. Some light applause behind me made me blush, but I paid it no mind, otherwise. It was like my students. If I recognized poor behavior to get my attention, it just encouraged them to do more.
I had to make my way to the second floor, and had a choice between a glass indoor elevator, or the escalator. I didn’t want anyone looking up my skirt, more than those who already had, but the elevator was going to be while, it appeared, so I endured the escalator, and though I could feel eyes on me, and maybe even under me, no mentions were made, at least none I could hear. I finally made it to the event, and after getting checked in at the door, I entered a lavishly decorated ballroom, with subdued lighting and the sounds of a stringed quartet playing in the background. There was a line at the bar, well, both of them, and so I made my way around, looking for my husband. I was about one-third the way across the room, when a hand reached in front of me, holding a flute of champagne. The hand was attached to a man in a black suit and a bright white shirt with a red silk tie and as I looked, a dark face smiled to me. It was Marlin. Of course, after all the trials and tribulations, I would have to be polite and endure the hosting charm of this arrogant black man. My husband was going to owe me for this, big time!
“Why thank you, Marlin. It is very kind of you to think of me.” I said as I took the flute and immediately took a sip.
“I am happy to provide for such a beautiful lady. I do appreciate a girl who does her best to look stunning, and you have indeed taken the room by storm. Perhaps it was for me?” His baritone voice replied. Even as he was being gracious and complimentary, he still came across as an arrogant ass. Maybe to him it was flirting, but to me? I just wanted to slap him into the next century.
“You are too kind…” I replied in my sweet Southern lilt, my soft voice adding to whatever it was men found attractive. My husband had often complimented me on my “killer accent”, but it wasn’t anything I could control. It was just how I talked, all my life. “But I am presenting myself to my husband, actually. Though I cannot seem to find him just now.” I even made a point to look around Marlin, just to make it obvious I had other goals that speaking with such an arrogant ass.
“Oh I am sure he is about, though several executives were called to a quit huddle upstairs somewhere. If he went, he shouldn’t be long. I’ll even help you look for him, if you like?”
At last! My tormentor made a good suggestion, and he wasn’t even crass about it! Anything to get this black man away from me. I had drained my flute and he gallantly took it from me, and offered to get me a refill, without even waiting to see if I wanted one. Typical of him. Forcing his will on me, as if I wasn’t capable of thinking and making decisions on my own. Deciding not to wait, I moved on, my hips still swaying in that sultry strut, as I felt more eyes on me. I caught a few angry glares from some of the wives, while their men looked at me with a bit of lust in their gaze. I would smile and nod cordially as I passed them, my vanilla and citrus perfume gently wafting behind me. The wives I did notice tended to be a bit older than me, and dressed more matronly, so it would make sense I was getting the men’s attention. I was dressed the way either their wives used to, or they wanted them to, and weren’t getting it. I did smile widely as I realized I might even be giving a few men hard-ons.
As I was smiling, and feeling good about myself, my fun was soon tamped down by Marlin again, as he arrived with another flute of the bubbly golden alcohol. I had to admit, for champagne at an event, it was pretty decent. Not Dom Perignon, mind you, but decent enough to drink willfully.
“Here you are!” He exclaimed. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to ditch me!” he spoke as he offered me the flute.
Taking it in a dainty, delicate grasp of my fingers, I spoke politely.
“And what if I was?” I was hoping he was getting the hint, as I sipped the champagne.
“Then I would have to work harder to win you over, of course!” He gave a bright smile, his teeth seemingly brighter than the lighting in the room.
“Win me over? For what?” I asked as we kept walking, cruising the room for my husband, and frustratingly not finding him.
“He’s not here.” Marlin declared with a finality of the glaring obvious, without answering my question. “Let’s look out here.”
He pushed the door open, and ushered me through, leaving the din and music of the celebration behind when the door closed with a loud clang. It was suddenly so quiet, it was deafening. I started looking around, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. I look back to him, or rather up to him, as he towered over my much shorter frame. Even as I wore heels, he had to hold an at least six-inch height over me.
“Where are we?”
“In a hallway.” He declared, almost smugly. He lifted his glass and pointed down the hall. “I think the best way is down here.”
I was so tempted to leave him by going back inside, but the doors were locked, after I gently tested them, and I wasn’t about to make a scene, not when I didn’t know what was going on with my husband. I was there to look my best and make him look good, not cause some upset and risk humiliating myself, and embarrassing him. I sighed, and decided to go with Marlin, as it was obvious that he and Robert must work together in some capacity, and I was again trapped by the requirements of my role. Heading down the hallway, I noticed it was getting even quieter. Rounding the corner, it was now too quiet, and I was alone with a black man. Things were going from bad to worse.
“You know…” Marlin started to say. “Robert talks about you a lot. He really loves you. In more ways than I think you know.”
I was blushing, partly from discussing so personal of a topic, but partly from annoyance at discussing so personal of a topic with a stranger, and a black one at that!
“What does he say?”
Marlin stepped back slightly and looked me up, slowly, and let loose a soft whistle.
“Yep, he is always bragging about how pretty and sexy you are, but to be honest, if he is telling the truth, then he ain’t bragging, and frankly, he’s not bragging.” Marlin said, offering me a back-handed compliment.
“You are very kind to be saying that, Marlin, but I am sure you know, as I am his wife, I look my best only for him.” I replied, my eyes looking about, almost expecting, but secretly hoping, that someone would round the corner and find us. I was looking anywhere but at Marlin, as I didn’t want to get into a seriously engaged conversation, and most certainly not on this topic.
“Oh, I get it, the forbidden fruit and all that. But you wouldn’t be the first wife to step out on her husband, I know that for a fact. I can actually name three other wives who are doing so, and you would not believe who with.”
As we walked along, I realized we were growing further isolated from the party, and were now around yet another corner and down another ball room.
“I wonder what this one is for?” I mused aloud, trying the door. The sign said ‘Williams-Jones Reception’ and gave the hours, and I was surprised to find that when I tested it, the door came open easily. The lighting inside was dim, but I could tell that the room was set up for the special event happening tomorrow, evidently.
Peering over me, his body directly behind mine, he gave me a soft nudge.
“C’mon. Let’s take a look?”
His next nudge had a little more pressure behind it, and I could feel him using his pelvis to rock me forward. Rather than fall from my heels, I took the fateful step, and entered, looking back over my shoulder at him, and giving Marlin a quick glare.
“Easy there. I don’t want to get into trouble.” I snarkily responded.
“Oh relax, we’ll be fine. Nobody will be in here until tomorrow, so let’s check it out!”
He let the door close behind him, and now we were very much alone and there was only the sound of the air conditioning echoing softly. My eyes were rapidly adjusting to the dim lighting, and I could see that whomever had rented the ballroom was well-off. I could see the various decorations and accoutrements were of high quality. Satin table cloths, with matching satin seat covers, red satin napkins, and the centerpieces had to be standing two feet tall. A head table with seating for about a dozen, along with the required dance floor. Around the room were a number of settees and couches, and a play-area for children. Yep, big money being spent here.
Marlin had me over by one of the couches, and started talking about the lewd and lascivious gossip in the office. Some guy on the third floor was using his wife to further his way up the corporate ladder. The secretary of one of the sales executives was pregnant with her boss’s baby. Quite the scandal there, he had offered. One of the female sales managers was caught on the warehouse floor, in flagrante delicto with two of the hourly warehouse workers, and another of the upper-level management suite was into watching his wife getting laid by black men. He had even bragged to Marlin about it. That last one made me shiver. It was too close to home. Was my husband that some person?
“Marlin, just how do you know my husband, anyway?”
“Oh, he hasn’t told you? We’re here for a promotional celebrations. A few of us are getting promoted, and so the party is for us.”
“Us?” I asked. “As in you and Robert?”
He smiled wickedly. “No. I beat Robert out for the job, though he did try and make it an interesting contest. I have to admit that he worked his ass off.”
My face fell a little. “So what then? You are telling me all of this, to rub it in his face? Is that it? Is this some sort of race-thing?”
“No, not at all. Actually, Robert is the one telling me he wants to watch his wife get fucked by a black man. Since I am his superior, now, I told him he had to set me up for it. That is why you are here.”
“Oh, HELL no!!” I barked out and started to move around him.
His arm was out in a flash and around my waist, pulling me back. My skirt was floating around as I wriggled in his grasp, his arm easily wrapping around my trim waist, and he had two hands to use, versus my one as I was still holding my clutch. He started to paw at me, and as my legs his the couch, my knees bent and I landed with a bouncing thump. He was on me faster than I thought possible, and he was soon able to wriggle and grind his way between my knees, until he was in a missionary position over me, both of us fully clothed. Well, not exactly. In my grand plan to get Robert in a frenzy and get me pregnant, I wasn’t wearing panties, only the smallest of G-strings, a small sheer patch that barely held my labia closed. He immediately started to dry hump me.
Atop the couch, he had gotten one of my legs across the back, and the other on the floor, and I finally had the presence of mind to drop my clutch. But by then, his thrusting had slithered my skirt up to my waist and all I felt was the repeated drumming of his growing bulge against my vulva, and despite what he was doing, I felt the first pangs of arousal. I used both of my hands against his shoulders and squirmed, using all of my might to push him off.
“Dammit, Marlin! Get off of me!” I cried out. There was no use screaming, we were so far isolated that all I would do was hurt my own ears in the process. I had to convince him.
“Marlin, you are ****** me!” I declared.
“For now…” he growled, his face burrowing in to my neck and his lips and then teeth latched on. Feeling the familiar burn of excess suction, I could feel him begin to mark me on the tender flesh below my ear. There was no way I could stop him, and worse, it would be difficult to hide. All the while, his hips kept thrusting, albeit more slowly, but making me feel every gentle bump against my folds, and worse, my pearl.
I could not stop the mew that emitted from my lips, as he was battering my erogenous zones with an onslaught I hadn’t thought possible. I was struggling as best as my strength and physical endurance would allow me, but I was wearing out, and he seemed to just be getting started. I felt his lips finally break from my neck, and I dared reaching to caress the new soreness on my neck, only to suddenly feel his lips smash against mine, and his tongue attack, parting my lips and slackening my jaw, allowing his tongue to invade my mouth. I struggled with my own tongue, squealing as I tried to resist him, wrestling for some sort of dominance, until I faltered, his virility seemingly endless and far stronger than my husband’s. I could deny my husband’s kiss, but found myself unable to stop Marlin’s.
My hands had finally stopped trying to push him, and my legs relaxed, when he broke off and reared up. I watched as his hands went to unbuckle his pants.
“Oh, no, Marlin. Don’t even think it. I can’t let you do this. I am unprotected, and due to ovulate soon, if not already.”
“Deal with it.” Marlin almost snarled. “Either way, you are taking my cock, and are gonna' be my bitch.”
I was shocked when he addressed me that way, and my lips flapped wordlessly, unable to come up with some sort of retort. His nimble fingers worked quickly, and before I realized it, he was snaking out his black shaft, and starting to wave it at me. I could not believe how dark it was, certainly as dark as he was, and even in the dim light I could tell he was uncircumcised. Something I had never seen before. He leaned forward and began to slide it up and down my crotch, making me feel him through my G-string.
“I’m begging you, Marlin. Maybe in a few weeks or something?” I was trying to negotiate with my tormentor, now. “Anything but right now. How about once my husband gets me pregnant? I’ll screw you any time you want, then?”
He ignored me as he was trying to push into me, but didn’t realize I was wearing my G-string. Pulling back, he felt down and groped my vulva until his dark fingers found it. Then he gave a sharp yank to the side, exposing my vaginal opening, and a small trickle of my lover’s lube began to seep out. His fingers then reached down and began to slide along my folds, getting coated in my dew before forcing my gates apart and then his thick digit into me, his finger curled just inside my entrance and he began to twiddle my love-muscle as he found my sweet spot. It was then that I knew I was lost, and for the next however many minutes, I would become his.
I gasped loudly and my eyes rolled back in my head as his finger pad began to massage my most sensitive nerve endings, sending blast after blast of pure, unadulterated pleasure through me in waves that shook me to my core. At first I went limp, and then tense as he started to raise the level of raw sexual tension within me. He simply had to do this to me for I don’t know how long, and then I ceased any and all resistance. But it wasn’t long. He managed to do in five minutes what my husband had never done in seven years. Destroy my sense of self and desire to become a part of him. I no longer cared that it was Marlin, or that he was black, or that I was fertile. I needed to be laid, to have a man consume me, and I needed it right then and there, consequences be damned!
I was soon moaning, and then begging for him.
“Please... Please…Do it… stick your cock in me… Fuck me like a slut.” I remember begging him, as my body was trembling. My body was tense and ready to fuck right there on the couch, only he decided to pull me to the floor, and get on top of me, his free hand having stroked his cock until he was fully hard. He manhandled me into the position he wanted, on my back, knees wider, bent and balancing on my heels. My arms he had placed high over my head, and I my skirt was flared up onto my stomach, baring my body to his lewd and lecherous advance. He jostled himself into position over me and I felt his cock start to rub against my vulva, parting my folds even wider and I looked down, astonished by the cock the man had.
I had no idea men were actually built like that. I’ve seen porn movies, even the few interracial sex ones my husband liked to subject me to, so I wasn’t a prude, but it was just different seeing one in person. My husband had never failed at letting me know he was inside me, I could feel him when he entered me, every time. But Marlin was different. My eyes grew wide and I remember offering a sense of dread, murmuring “Oh no…” in that tone of voice when someone knows things are about to be difficult.
It was. Feeling his head engage was nothing abnormal, at first, but the slightest shift in his body made me feel it, that beginning stretch of my opening, my inner petals signaling that this was going to not be what I was used to. In truth, Marlin was half-again the size of my husband, but also the biggest I had ever had. So that made him an easy eight inches long, and maybe just shy of two inches in diameter. How women in those porn movies took those 12+ inch cocks still remains a mystery to me. The foreskin had pulled back due to his erection, and I at least recognized it for the danger it was. A man’s cock, uncovered and about to enter my unprotected and fertile womb. Then he hefted his weight onto that single point penetrating me, and I felt the first pangs of real discomfort, even pain.
I grimaced and grunted out. “Fuck! You’re hurting me!”
“Relax, Bitch, once I’m in, you’ll feel nothing but greatness.” Was his reply, his eyes boring into mine.
It became true and once my vagina began to relax, and he was able to stretch my opening, his firm and incessant thrusts made me feel more of him. He popped into my tunnel, and then each thrust made me feel a couple of more inches or so, until he was fully seated in me. I felt a fullness like no other, and he then lay his body atop mine, squashing my torso flat and helpless under him. Mentally and emotionally, I was in a state of disbelief, that I was stuck under the body of a filthy animal of a man, and I knew that I was being defiled tragically. I was a loyal white wife, now being ***** by a vile black man, and I was disgusted by him, and how my body was making me feel. Even as he lay still on me, my body invaded by him, I felt a sensation of what I can only describe as a curious pleasure. It was better than when I first lost my virginity, in the parking lot of one of my high school dances, and as I started to relax, and become used to his body in mine, I could identify the small clenching and squeezing of my vagina on his cock. I was somehow shocked that it felt so good. It was, as Marlin put it, “greatness”.
Marlin must’ve grown tired of waiting for my body, because he then began that slow cycle of human reproduction, slowly, even torturously withdrawing his hips, and therefore his cock from my depths, until I could feel the head of him at my entrance, and then slowly and inexorably feeling that first real pang of pleasure, as his cock rammed home, until his pubic bone smacked my erect pearl, and sent a wave of passion through me, to be punctuated by a burst of pleasure from my clit. I could not help my voice from a long, slow mewling. He then began to cycle all over again, the slow withdrawal, and then the more forceful penetration, making my voice mew at first, and then moan. He was using his cock to control me, and I couldn’t believe how effective he was at it, and how good he was making me feel. Robert had never made me feel anything close to this.
My eyes were locked on Marlin’s and I felt him prying my soul apart as he was taking me, and making me his woman in those moments. There was a silent but deadly communication between us, and I knew that I could never again try and deny this man from my body, or even my bed, if he demanded. I had no idea sex could feel this good, and as his hips began to grow into a rapid trip-hammering of my pussy, I realized that I was now in love with black cock. Black cock made me feel better than any white man ever had, or likely would. Robert, as much as I loved him, would be ranked as a pretty inconsistent lover, and Marlin became my new bar to judge all others by, and he was setting the bar quite high. As his frequency and power in thrusting increased, so did my voice, until I was wailing loudly, my cries of pleasure only punctuated when Marlin slammed his cock home deep inside me particularly firmly, or hit a special spot that only he was able to reach.
We never kissed after the first one, and for that I was grateful, for it was my last bastion of loyalty to my marriage, as Marlin was stealing my husband’s reproductive rights from him right there on the floor of a ballroom. A ballroom where my husband by now had to be wondering just where in the hell I was. I had checked in, and I had been seen, so I was known to be on the grounds, somewhere. I was, in only a physical sense. Emotionally and mentally, I was far away, floating above the scene, as in my mind’s eye, I envisioned Marlin over me, fucking me as my knees had now pulled up, and my heels were bouncing at his waist, my body widely availed to this once filthy and disgusting man. Only now he was my lover, and I found my voice starting to talk, speaking dirty language and despicable things that I would never have thought I was capable of saying.
“Fuck me, Marlin! Fuck me full of your cum!” I started. “Cum in me! Put your black bastard into me, you fucking black monkey!” and a few other racial things that I won’t repeat here. All it did was spur him on.
Not long after, I felt his pace change, and I felt my body starting to tingle from the depths of my womb. It would be a race to see who would climax first, or even if Marlin could make me cum from his black cock. My hands still lay above my head in supplication, at first defeated physically, and now defeated sexually, and my fingers were balled into tight fists as my toes curled. My legs straightened and my hips rotated to meet him, and I was splayed widely to accept his body as he mated with me. My body was working hard to be successful in what nature had desired, the successful procreation between male and female, regardless of the fact we were of two far-different races. My body wanted to have a black baby far more than I did.
That realization was the end of the race for me, and I screamed loudly, only once, and I shuddered violently under Marlin as he was now erratic in this pulsing thrusts, until he bellowed soon after and pile-drove his cock as far into my pussy as he could possibly manage, and held himself there. He was cumming in me, his hot, thick, sticky jets of black seed coating my quivering cervix to fertilize my white man’s garden. We were biologically farming, trying to grow a black baby. My pussy was massaging his pulsing black cock inside me, eager to milk his balls of every drop of his precious essence. No matter what happened now, I would be taking the risk of bearing Marlin’s child. Nothing could stop it now, no matter how I, or my husband felt about it.
I was laying there, gasping for breath as Marlin did the same, and I looked aside. I snorted softly as I realized that this was what Robert had wanted to watch all along. Only he wasn’t going to witness it. He wasn’t going to see that bigger black cock plunder my body and make me moan. He wasn’t going to see me taking the risk of impregnation, and having a black baby. He wasn’t going to see the chance that I was taking in changing how I viewed sex. My husband wasn’t going to get to see me defiled and violated in front of him. Robert wasn’t going to see any of it.
After several long seconds more, I heard the scariest thing in my life. The sound of two hands clapping. Slowly, but assuredly and very much audibly. I gasped, and turned my head to face the sound. All I could see was a pair of legs walking towards us, as Marlin was still laying on me, his cock unbelievably still draining his semen into my pussy.
“Damn… I almost missed this!” I heard the man say, and I instantly knew it was my husband. Suddenly I was beyond pissed.
“What?!?!?!” I exclaimed. “You knew I was here? What the fuck, Honey? He was ****** me!”
Marlin, for all I knew, was just laying there, dumbfounded. My entire focus was on my husband, and I really didn’t care at that point what Marlin did. He had already achieved his goal. Yet he still lay on top of me, pinning me down as my legs came down to rest, the pointed stilettos of my shoes landing on the floor. My hands were still above my head, and I hadn’t the sense to use them for anything.
“I don’t think so. From what I saw, and soon heard, you were into this, Baby. You were into his fucking you, and in a big way. I bet from now on, when I ask you to fuck a black guy for me, you will do it without a moment’s hesitation.”
I hadn’t the mental facilities at the moment to verbally spar with him, my mind was still abuzz with the coming down of the amazing sexual highs that Marlin gave me. I just glared at him.
“Asshole! I may be pregnant, now! Do you realize that?”
Robert nodded. “Yeah, I know. We even discussed it as a possibility. In a way, I kinda’ hope you do.”
“WHAT?????” I fairly screamed.
Marlin, by now, had recovered enough to join the argument, only he was much calmer. He even had the presence of mind to grab hold of my wrists before speaking.
“Yeah, we talked about it. It seems the risk turns him on. But he has always been a risk-taker at work, so it figures. That is why I got the promotion and he didn’t. His risk blew up in his face and cost the company about a million bucks. My work saved the company more than that, so I saved the division, and Robert is lucky he didn’t get fired. I saved his ass and he knows it. Fucking you is my price for his career, and now I hold his, and your future, in my hands… and in my balls.”
I went into a fury, kicking and struggling, all the while Marlin held me with relative ease. I wasn’t sure who to be angrier with. Robert, Marlin, or myself. In the end, I just wore out and Marlin finally rose to his knees, his cock soft and empty, leaving my pussy, with my folds distended. I looked to Rober6t for him to say something, but suddenly he looked defeated. He couldn’t look me in the eye, and I looked down. I finally saw it, a wet stain in the crotch of his grey suit. He had ejaculated in his pants. Closing my eyes softly, I just shook my head in disgust.
“Really Robert?”
I spent the rest of that night at the party, celebrating Marlin’s promotion, along with a number of others. My G-string was holding my vagina tightly closed, keeping Marlin’s seed from leaking from me. Being the good wife, smiling and making pleasantries, even getting compliments of the glow I had about me. Robert stood at my side as well, but I never held his hand, or his arm. I was so pissed at him that I could have cut his balls off with my fingernails. He was smart enough to mostly stay silent to me the rest of the night. But I did make use to Marlin’s company, and stayed on his arm as he would ask, smiling and taking compliments from those who did not know me. In essence, I spent that night as “his bitch” with his cum swimming inside my womb, following nature’s instructions for trying to make a baby. Marlin didn’t introduce me as anyone other than a friend, and at the end of the night, as everyone was leaving, Robert, Marlin and I met up.
Robert offered his arm, and I refused to take it.
“Tonight you showed me who earned my place at his side. You gave it to Marlin the moment you hatched that plan to give me to him. He has shown me what great sex really is like, and since I now risk carrying his baby, you don’t get to have sex with me until my period. I have to know who the father of my baby is. I won’t got through 9 months of not knowing.”
Robert protested, but I wasn’t even remotely interested in listening to him. Instead, I told him I would meet him at home, and ask Marlin to escort me to my car. I didn’t want to walk that neighborhood alone, dressed as I was. Having unwanted sex once was enough for me. Marlin got me safely to my car, only he was able to successfully extract a date night with him next weekend. Just a date, and who knew how it would end up, no pressure, he offered, and I accepted. In the back of my mind, having now been blacked, I was thinking I wanted more of it, if it was like Marlin’s sexual prowess.
When I got home, Robert was sulking and we got into a terrible fight, which ended with his sleeping in a motel. It took two days for us to be able to come to a mutual understanding, and a plan. Only then would I let him come home, and into bed with me. True to my word, he went without for those two weeks, while I let Marlin take advantage of me that date night, again. It was as amazing as the first time, only this time we started by making out, kissing and all the extra emotion-building touching and sharing. I became firmly enchanted with having sex with black guys.
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Eight months later, I was laying on the couch, spooning, with my swollen belly, while watching TV. I was not yet close to giving birth, but uncomfortable, and a bit bitchy.
“Robert, please get me some water?” I asked as politely as I could muster.
Robert got up from the chair and was complying with my request, when Marlin spoke softly from behind me.
“I would have done that.”
I shook my head. “Nah, you have earned your place in our house and now our marriage. You will be involved for the rest of our lives. Or you better be…” I let my voice trail off to deliver the threat I had intended.
He squeezed me gently from the arm draped over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” He kissed the back of my head.
The plan I had come up with was that whomever got to have me unprotected first would be the one who got a chance to put his baby into me for the month. The other man would still get to have sex with me, only with full protection. Condom, I wore my diaphragm, and he had to pull out. I wasn’t taking any chances of screwing up knowing who the father would be. For me, it was the best of both worlds. I got the best sex of my life with Marlin, and I still got to love the man I married and be a good wife to him. Although, truth be told, I was growing very, very fond of Marlin as well, in a different way.
In the end, Marlin won out two months later. He simply sent Robert on a business trip, and since Robert worked for him, away my husband went for four days. I slept with Marlin that first night, in our bed, and then I spent the next three days at his place, acting as his wife, in a way. I told Robert what was going on, and he was upset, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Marlin had to threaten to transfer him to another position that would have him traveling at least every other week, and that was what it took to shut my husband up.
So now I lay here, next to the father of my baby, nestled softly and uncomfortably, even now wondering what race my next baby would be.
This story contains themes of interracial sex, non-consensual sexual activities, and sex outside of marriage. If these themes offend you, the Author advises you to seek other content more to your liking on this website.
This story is written to include some aspects of sexuality and race that the Author does not personally believe in or adhere to. There will be descriptions and additional prose that some readers may find unnecessary or tedious, however, they are included at the Client’s request. This story is a matter of pure fiction, however, the names used were provided by the Client, and used at the Client’s request. The Author has no way of knowing if the names used are related to real individuals or not, and does not accept any liability in such an occurrence. The Author retains full copyrights and other legal protections.
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I Hate Those Guys
A White Wife is Forced to Love Black Cock
“I hate guys like that.” I said, some venom in my voice. It was true. I could not stand them, socially. Part of it was the way I was raised in Alabama. It gave me a killer accent, but some strong views on how people interacted. Part of it was that it was the year 1999, and white women simply just didn’t socialize with black men. They were too dangerous to be around, as all they wanted was one thing. I believed that they had a ‘fuck ‘em and forget ‘em’ mentality. I didn’t want to be any part of that. So why was my husband telling me he wanted to watch me have sex with black guys?
I mean, we had been married for 7 years now, and maybe it was his version of that 7-year itch? He wasn’t cheating on me, that much was certain. So maybe I wasn’t enough for him anymore? A possibility. But I wasn’t sure why I should be mad, and at whom. Was it me, for not being ‘wife-enough’ to satisfy my man, or was it that his own needs had grown into a wild and extreme desire for me to be debased and humiliated? I was stopped in though, all of these things rushing through my mind as we sat at the kitchen table on a Saturday morning, after a nice Friday night date-night.
Our date night was great, actually. I looked great, and felt great, and my husband had stepped up and even worn a suit. We went to a nice dinner, and then dancing, and just enjoyed each other’s company. Some light necking in the booth of the dance club and drinks just gave me a feeling of letting my hair down, and enjoying being a wife to an amazing man!
I had worn one of his favorite outfits, a shimmering silky black and very tight dress that zippered from the front, reaching all the way up from the hem to the high-necked collar, giving my butt had a nice curve to it, and my legs were well displayed in my 4-inch black patent leather stilettos. I usually left the dress a third-of-the way un-done, to expose my D-cupped cleavage, though it eliminated the possibility of a bra. With my shoulder-blade length brown hair pulled up in a French Twirl, exposing my neck and adding a seemingly few more inches to my shoe-assisted 5 foot-eight inch and slender frame, I did look pretty good. I had to admit that age 25, I felt proud to admit I ‘still had it’. Plus, it was fun to be a little bit of a tease for my husband. My husband, Robert, was a decent-looking guy, certainly not for the cover of GQ magazine, but he had a great smile, wonderful eyes, and while he was taller in size, his physique could have used some gym-time. But as ***-bods went, he looked good, only he wasn’t a father, yet. We were working on it. His stamina was also good for the bedroom, though he was more of a one-and-done kind of guy. But with his hair combed, and freshly shaved, I couldn’t say no to him. As long as he was wanting me for himself. But that was his problem. He didn’t want that, and worse, he was wanting me to be having sex with black guys.
I got a fair amount of looks, and a few stares, and while we were on the dance floor, more than once my butt was ‘accidently’ brushed or even cupped softly. But that went with the territory on a crowded dance floor, so I gave it little mind, except to elevate my ego. It made me feel more feminine towards my husband, and it helped our amorous activity at home. We never made it even to the bedroom, before my dress was un-zipped and I was lying on my back in front of the TV, getting it on.
Flat on my back, his body on his knees between my spread thighs, he reached and drew down the zipper holding my dress together and when finally released, the tight material popped open with a soft pop, exposing my body to my husband. His hands went to my nipples and he began to pinch them and my body mewed as he sent a burning pleasure through me, while my hands reached for his arms, the only part I could really reach.
Suitably arousing my ample bosom, he then slid his hands down my ribcage, and then my stomach, slowly feeling me as I lay there, purring at his touch. He was my man, and I was his woman, and just his touch meant so very much to me. I let my hands fall from his arms to above my head, a gesture of supplication to him, and a signal that I belonged to him. His one hand began to slid lower, to my heat, and cup my vulva, and slide slowly up and down, my lips parting as I gasped softly, my thighs opening even further, to give him full access to my body.
My heart was already beating hard, and I let my mind just wallow in the pleasure he was feeding me, knowing it would get even better. Soon my petals were engorged and swollen, and my moisture was coating his palm, his rough, calloused hand titillating me even more. Our eyes never left each other’s gaze, and we shared a silent communication between to lovers and two people deeply in love. His finger then slid towards my folds, and the gentle pressure parted my gates, allowing him to slide inside me, slowly, and tease my pussy before he opened my body and began to curl his finger inside my opening, and send blasts of passion through me. My voice was much louder as he did this, no doubt sharing his ability to please, and even control me.
My white-knuckled fists were still above my head, as my hips undulated and rocked, eager to have more of him.
“Do it, Honey. Fuck me. Stick your dick in me, and make me a mama…” I purred in my best come-hither voice. “Cum in me and knock me up!”
We had started working on our ****** only recently, and in the past, he had always needed to wear a condom, so going in bare and unprotected with me was a treat for him, and it motivated him mightily. I also had to admit that it was arousing for me, too, to know I was doing so natural an act with my husband. His pants already off, he literally ripped his shirt open, buttons popping everywhere, and he then slid his boxers down, releasing his erection. I looked down, to admire his manhood. I wasn’t a virgin when we married, and he wasn’t the biggest man I had experienced, but he had a nice six-plus inches to him, and more to the point, he was mine, and I adored him, and it.
He began to mount me almost instantly, rubbing the head of his cock along my slit, until I was almost begging him to fuck me, and then he engaged with my opening and slid into my tight passage. His initial thrust made me gasp, long and softly, as my eyes fluttered closed, my head falling back in the carpet as I began to hear colors and see sounds. I love him, and I loved his cock, and to be one person for the short time we would be was what I viewed as the closest I could get to Heaven without actually being there. It took him several firm, slow and deliberate thrusts to feed his body into mine, forcing my flexing love canal to accept his hot, throbbing rod, and I squeaked sensually as his public bone smacked my clit, the pearl emerging from the protective cape protecting it. Soon he began to cycle his hips and we began to make love. I as moaning and mewing as he took me, and I began to share some dirty pillow-talk, to arouse him further.
“Fuck me, Robert... fuck me hard. A man was feeling me up… under my dress…” I began to tease him. “Rubbing my ass as I danced with you…” His pace was growing harder. “A total stranger…groping me as we danced.” I purred sexily. His thrusts became more forceful, making my voice break at times as his pile-driving of his cock inside me jolted my frame, impacting my breath. “He wanted... to fuck me… at the club.” That was the end of it, as his hips started to pound me and I lost the ability to think and speak more clearly, so I gave it up and just endured his passion, my voice growing into louder wails as we mated. Too soon, he roared out and he climaxed, burying his cock fully into me as he spewed his sticky cum into my vagina, perhaps a lucky shot coating my cervix, or perhaps not, and maybe dribbling along the walls of my slickness. For me, while I felt very good, it wasn’t an orgasm for me. I often didn’t, simply because I had greater stamina than he did, and it was so easy for me to push him over the edge. It was a double-edged sword, in that I loved to arouse, tease, please and ultimately make love with Robert, but at the same point I hadn’t learned how to try and help control his passions, so I could make sure I got mine as he got his.
“Darlene…” he began following up with me between kisses. “It is just hot to think about. You naked under him, as he is giving it to you but good. His black skin rubbing naked against yours. You are my trophy wife, and I don’t want my trophy to sit on a shelf!” He tried his disarming smile. Normally, it might have worked. Except it was his fantasy to see me with Marlin. Marlin was a black man my husband knew. I didn’t know where they had met, or gotten acquainted, but it had to be through work or something. Robert and I spent most of our free time together, or socializing with friends, and Marlin wasn’t exactly part of our social circle. Single guys didn’t hang with our crowd. But I had met him once, and he was about as dark-skinned as they come. He had this ‘something’ in his demeanor. Arrogant, maybe, or just overly-confident. Obviously, he had never been married, because a wife would have knocked that attitude right out of him! He was tall like my husband, and I had to guess about the same build, though I had no clue about his cock, and I definitely didn't want to know about that.
I narrowed my eyes, as inwardly I was seething. But I couldn’t blow up at him, he had simply made a request. Not to mention he was still laying atop me, pinning me to the floor as his manhood continued to drain inside me, and I wanted every drop he could give me. I was just against it from a values standpoint. Besides, I didn’t want to be some one-night stand filthy slut. I valued myself more than that. I was well-educated, had a degree in education, and was teaching sixth-graders at a school within a 20-minute commute. I had to teach values to younger minds daily, and it helped to live them, myself. While I would never discriminate against any of my few black students, I would never go to bed with one of their fathers. Ever. It wasn’t appropriate, especially for a white married woman.
The next morning, we sat at the breakfast table, after eating a light meal, a small pile of buttons from last night on the table.
“Give it a rest, Robert…” I spoke with an annoyance in my tone. “You are the only man I want, regardless of what color his skin is. Why do you want me to be with another man? Especially a black one?”
“I dunno.” he replied. “Guys talk about it at work, and I think a guy on the third floor is already having his wife doing it, and from what he says, it is blazing hot. It’s just a turn-on to think about. Seeing you like that just gets me aroused.”
“I’m not fucking a black man, Robert. The ones I have met are filthy, perverted assholes that I wouldn’t give the time of day to. Much less my body. Besides, this is a very wrong time for us to be even thinking about such a thing. I mean, what if I get pregnant by one? What will everyone say? Especially my ******? They’ll practically dis-own me!”
I rose from my seat, the long, silky pink satin robe flowing from my body, un-sashed as I went to refill my coffee. It let my husband see what he was entitled to see. I was a good wife, after all, and it was my duty to be a good partner to him. My trim figure was on display as I was only wearing panties underneath, and other than not wearing heels and makeup, I did want to look pretty for him.
“We can talk about it some more later.” He murmured as he had risen behind me and was kissing my neck and shoulder, laying hands on my stomach before feeling my breasts up.
“Much later…” I purred.
We then broke with a kiss and got on with our day.
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The next week went as most do. It started Monday, and soon it was Wednesday and then, out of nowhere, it was Friday. I got home early, not having to do any grading, and was sitting in the ****** room, watching TV while perusing a magazine. My phone chimed with a text alert. I picked it up and swiped it on with my thumb. My brown eyes read the message.
“Forgot to tell you, corporate event 2nite. Pls come dressed up by 6:30. Sry!” and a link to the location was included. Clicking the link brought up a nice, upscale hotel near downtown. I sighed.
“It figures…” I muttered as I replied I would be there, and rose to start getting ready.
I showered and shaved my legs and armpits, then as I let my hair dry naturally, I looked at my body and decided to touch-up my landing strip. I kept my patch of fur at about 1 inch wide, and it stretched up from the top of my vagina to a sharp, squared cut-off where my pubic hair started to thin out. While I was at it, I re-did my toe nails, making them the same bright red my husband liked on my long, perfectly manicured nails. My fingernails were my one pampering I gave myself and I had them done at least once a week, sometimes twice, if I somehow managed to damage one.
I finished my hair off by blow-drying and then brushed it out into a long and wavy fall from my scalp, until it was draping down between my shoulder blades. I made a note to get a trim soon, as it was getting a little long and taking too much time to get ready in the mornings. An inch or two would do. I also applied my makeup, a bit heavier than I normally would, and had to watch a video tutorial online, to remind me how to get that smoky-eyed allure that would match my dress. Then it was time to get dressed.
First came the lingerie, sheer dark stockings, and my black satin garter-belt. It was the foundation for the totally feminine look my husband enjoyed, and following that was my black satin thong. I know the panties are supposed to go on first in the catalogues, under the garter belt, but if I have to take my thong off, say for a bathroom stop, it is way-easier this way. Plus, if I want to be a real tease for my husband, I can slip my thong off pretty much anywhere and slyly slip them into his hand. It drives him crazy knowing I am exposed underneath. Then came decision time for the dress.
Thumbing through my walk-in closet, I had to start the selection process. I had worn my lingerie in that dark color intentionally, to give me flexibility on what color I wore. I started at one end, and started to talk to myself as I perused my wardrobe.
“White long gown? Nah, too formal. My black sequined LBD? Too flashy. Blood-red satin halter dress? Maybe,” I said and then thought “but the skirt was way too wide, and way too short, maybe 2-inches below my ass.” Robert loved it, but the risk of public exposure was far too great. “Emerald green cocktail dress? Maybe.” My sleeveless black cocktail dress? Potential there, my mind considered in my head. Pulling out the green dress, the red one, the black sleeveless one, and an asymmetrical champagne satin one, I spread them out on the bed to ponder. This was getting to be worse than grading student exams.
Holding the green dress up to me, I looked in the mirror and frowned. “Shit.”
It had a stain from the last time I wore it, and I had forgotten to take it to the cleaners. I hoped the stain hadn’t set, and made a mental note to get that dress to the cleaners, tomorrow! Then I tried the sleeveless one. Holding it against me, it just didn’t hit me as a good choice. I needed to be arm-candy, and that meant being a knock-out, and this dress just didn’t say it to me. In fact, I had only worn it once before, and had considered returning it, but never got around to doing that. So now it was red or champagne, and I had to pick my poison. I pulled the Champagne one on, and got all nestled into it. It was very pretty, and silky, and I felt good in it. The back of the dress was hemmed at my feet, and the front was a cascading slit that opened on both sides equally in the middle, the slit ending about 3 inches below my crotch. It was going to do, until I tried to zip it up.
“Fuck!” I cursed myself. It was then I remembered I needed Robert to zip me up, as my hands couldn’t reach. I danced around, fighting the zipper battle for a few minutes, even attaching a paperclip to the zipper clasp to try and help, but it just wasn’t going to work. I was annoyed, because that the dress to wear. Taking it off with a sigh, I shook my head and grumbled. Red it would be.
Pulling it on was easy. High front halter, I didn’t have to worry about my boobs sliding out on accident, as there was plenty of gathered satin to cup them, but there was no support for them, and I couldn’t wear a bra, as the back was too low. In fact, if I had a tan-line, it might have been easily seen. Standing in front of the mirror again, I twisted my hips left and right, watching helplessly as the hem of the dress rose higher and higher. ‘No dancing tonight!’ I firmly decided.
Resigned, I pulled on my blood-red ankle-locked patent leather pumps, adding four inches to my height. I packed my black patent leather clutch, grabbed my black silk bolero and headed out. Getting in my car was an ordeal, as it was a nice evening, but there was a slight breeze, and as I turned to sit into the driver’s seat, the hemline flew up and out, exposing me. Nobody saw me, mind you, but I was irritated. I would be paying very close attention to my skirt all night. Blessedly, traffic was relatively light for a Friday evening and I was only 15 minutes late. Fashionably late in some circles, they would say. I drove up to the front of the hotel, intending to use the valet service, only to see a sign that the valet was full, and that parking was available at the alternate lot across the street and ‘only’ down one block. I was a bit peeved at that, as it meant more walking in my stilettos, and I had already been on my feet at work all day. I had to wear stilettos at work, as I am petite, and at 5-foot-4, I needed the extra inches to be able to at least look down on some of my more rapidly maturing students. Rumor was one of the boys had already become more ’manly’ with one of the girls in another class. It that were true, I would not want to be the parents of either child.
So I paid the lot attendant, and then parked, getting carefully out of my car. Again, the gentle breeze helped my satin skirt float out, and expose me nearly to my waist, and I grimaced and growled as my hands went to push it back down. I could already tell it was going to be one of those nights. I turned and had to bend to get my clutch, and again let the whole world get a look at my behind and lingerie, and more, earning a whistle from some passing man, and a small toot of a horn by a passing car. I was growing to hate downtown. But once I was collected, I slowly strutted my way out of the lot and down the sidewalk, my heels giving me a sultry strut, and my hips that extra sway. The effect on my skirt was also teasing, for the thin and shiny material was swinging to and fro, sometimes giving a glimpse at what was underneath, I was sure. I just had to endure it, and hold my head high and not look as embarrassed as I felt.
Here I was, wearing a dress that I wore when I was trying to get my husband’s attention, only now it was getting the attention of men all around me. Others who were just walking on the same sidewalk, or across the street, all on their own way to their own tasks, looking me over and staring. I heard a few catcalls, and invitations to have sex with them, expressed very crudely. I could not help but look over as I heard a few of them, only to see the denizens of most downtown areas. Homeless men, and even a small encampment of them. I even gave a snort of derision a few times, being obvious to reject them. One car even pulled up beside me and asked me how much I charged for a date! I had a sharp word or three for him, and he roared off. Inwardly, I did kind of smile. It was nice to know that while the invitations were rude, I still had ‘it’.
Finally off the road, and into the hotel, I had yet another ‘wardrobe malfunction’ with my skirt, the interior air-conditioning rushing out the door as I entered, and my skirt billowed up behind me, exposing my rear to everyone who was looking. I couldn’t do anything about it, as my hands were busy with the door and my clutch, but it was again embarrassing. Some light applause behind me made me blush, but I paid it no mind, otherwise. It was like my students. If I recognized poor behavior to get my attention, it just encouraged them to do more.
I had to make my way to the second floor, and had a choice between a glass indoor elevator, or the escalator. I didn’t want anyone looking up my skirt, more than those who already had, but the elevator was going to be while, it appeared, so I endured the escalator, and though I could feel eyes on me, and maybe even under me, no mentions were made, at least none I could hear. I finally made it to the event, and after getting checked in at the door, I entered a lavishly decorated ballroom, with subdued lighting and the sounds of a stringed quartet playing in the background. There was a line at the bar, well, both of them, and so I made my way around, looking for my husband. I was about one-third the way across the room, when a hand reached in front of me, holding a flute of champagne. The hand was attached to a man in a black suit and a bright white shirt with a red silk tie and as I looked, a dark face smiled to me. It was Marlin. Of course, after all the trials and tribulations, I would have to be polite and endure the hosting charm of this arrogant black man. My husband was going to owe me for this, big time!
“Why thank you, Marlin. It is very kind of you to think of me.” I said as I took the flute and immediately took a sip.
“I am happy to provide for such a beautiful lady. I do appreciate a girl who does her best to look stunning, and you have indeed taken the room by storm. Perhaps it was for me?” His baritone voice replied. Even as he was being gracious and complimentary, he still came across as an arrogant ass. Maybe to him it was flirting, but to me? I just wanted to slap him into the next century.
“You are too kind…” I replied in my sweet Southern lilt, my soft voice adding to whatever it was men found attractive. My husband had often complimented me on my “killer accent”, but it wasn’t anything I could control. It was just how I talked, all my life. “But I am presenting myself to my husband, actually. Though I cannot seem to find him just now.” I even made a point to look around Marlin, just to make it obvious I had other goals that speaking with such an arrogant ass.
“Oh I am sure he is about, though several executives were called to a quit huddle upstairs somewhere. If he went, he shouldn’t be long. I’ll even help you look for him, if you like?”
At last! My tormentor made a good suggestion, and he wasn’t even crass about it! Anything to get this black man away from me. I had drained my flute and he gallantly took it from me, and offered to get me a refill, without even waiting to see if I wanted one. Typical of him. Forcing his will on me, as if I wasn’t capable of thinking and making decisions on my own. Deciding not to wait, I moved on, my hips still swaying in that sultry strut, as I felt more eyes on me. I caught a few angry glares from some of the wives, while their men looked at me with a bit of lust in their gaze. I would smile and nod cordially as I passed them, my vanilla and citrus perfume gently wafting behind me. The wives I did notice tended to be a bit older than me, and dressed more matronly, so it would make sense I was getting the men’s attention. I was dressed the way either their wives used to, or they wanted them to, and weren’t getting it. I did smile widely as I realized I might even be giving a few men hard-ons.
As I was smiling, and feeling good about myself, my fun was soon tamped down by Marlin again, as he arrived with another flute of the bubbly golden alcohol. I had to admit, for champagne at an event, it was pretty decent. Not Dom Perignon, mind you, but decent enough to drink willfully.
“Here you are!” He exclaimed. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to ditch me!” he spoke as he offered me the flute.
Taking it in a dainty, delicate grasp of my fingers, I spoke politely.
“And what if I was?” I was hoping he was getting the hint, as I sipped the champagne.
“Then I would have to work harder to win you over, of course!” He gave a bright smile, his teeth seemingly brighter than the lighting in the room.
“Win me over? For what?” I asked as we kept walking, cruising the room for my husband, and frustratingly not finding him.
“He’s not here.” Marlin declared with a finality of the glaring obvious, without answering my question. “Let’s look out here.”
He pushed the door open, and ushered me through, leaving the din and music of the celebration behind when the door closed with a loud clang. It was suddenly so quiet, it was deafening. I started looking around, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. I look back to him, or rather up to him, as he towered over my much shorter frame. Even as I wore heels, he had to hold an at least six-inch height over me.
“Where are we?”
“In a hallway.” He declared, almost smugly. He lifted his glass and pointed down the hall. “I think the best way is down here.”
I was so tempted to leave him by going back inside, but the doors were locked, after I gently tested them, and I wasn’t about to make a scene, not when I didn’t know what was going on with my husband. I was there to look my best and make him look good, not cause some upset and risk humiliating myself, and embarrassing him. I sighed, and decided to go with Marlin, as it was obvious that he and Robert must work together in some capacity, and I was again trapped by the requirements of my role. Heading down the hallway, I noticed it was getting even quieter. Rounding the corner, it was now too quiet, and I was alone with a black man. Things were going from bad to worse.
“You know…” Marlin started to say. “Robert talks about you a lot. He really loves you. In more ways than I think you know.”
I was blushing, partly from discussing so personal of a topic, but partly from annoyance at discussing so personal of a topic with a stranger, and a black one at that!
“What does he say?”
Marlin stepped back slightly and looked me up, slowly, and let loose a soft whistle.
“Yep, he is always bragging about how pretty and sexy you are, but to be honest, if he is telling the truth, then he ain’t bragging, and frankly, he’s not bragging.” Marlin said, offering me a back-handed compliment.
“You are very kind to be saying that, Marlin, but I am sure you know, as I am his wife, I look my best only for him.” I replied, my eyes looking about, almost expecting, but secretly hoping, that someone would round the corner and find us. I was looking anywhere but at Marlin, as I didn’t want to get into a seriously engaged conversation, and most certainly not on this topic.
“Oh, I get it, the forbidden fruit and all that. But you wouldn’t be the first wife to step out on her husband, I know that for a fact. I can actually name three other wives who are doing so, and you would not believe who with.”
As we walked along, I realized we were growing further isolated from the party, and were now around yet another corner and down another ball room.
“I wonder what this one is for?” I mused aloud, trying the door. The sign said ‘Williams-Jones Reception’ and gave the hours, and I was surprised to find that when I tested it, the door came open easily. The lighting inside was dim, but I could tell that the room was set up for the special event happening tomorrow, evidently.
Peering over me, his body directly behind mine, he gave me a soft nudge.
“C’mon. Let’s take a look?”
His next nudge had a little more pressure behind it, and I could feel him using his pelvis to rock me forward. Rather than fall from my heels, I took the fateful step, and entered, looking back over my shoulder at him, and giving Marlin a quick glare.
“Easy there. I don’t want to get into trouble.” I snarkily responded.
“Oh relax, we’ll be fine. Nobody will be in here until tomorrow, so let’s check it out!”
He let the door close behind him, and now we were very much alone and there was only the sound of the air conditioning echoing softly. My eyes were rapidly adjusting to the dim lighting, and I could see that whomever had rented the ballroom was well-off. I could see the various decorations and accoutrements were of high quality. Satin table cloths, with matching satin seat covers, red satin napkins, and the centerpieces had to be standing two feet tall. A head table with seating for about a dozen, along with the required dance floor. Around the room were a number of settees and couches, and a play-area for children. Yep, big money being spent here.
Marlin had me over by one of the couches, and started talking about the lewd and lascivious gossip in the office. Some guy on the third floor was using his wife to further his way up the corporate ladder. The secretary of one of the sales executives was pregnant with her boss’s baby. Quite the scandal there, he had offered. One of the female sales managers was caught on the warehouse floor, in flagrante delicto with two of the hourly warehouse workers, and another of the upper-level management suite was into watching his wife getting laid by black men. He had even bragged to Marlin about it. That last one made me shiver. It was too close to home. Was my husband that some person?
“Marlin, just how do you know my husband, anyway?”
“Oh, he hasn’t told you? We’re here for a promotional celebrations. A few of us are getting promoted, and so the party is for us.”
“Us?” I asked. “As in you and Robert?”
He smiled wickedly. “No. I beat Robert out for the job, though he did try and make it an interesting contest. I have to admit that he worked his ass off.”
My face fell a little. “So what then? You are telling me all of this, to rub it in his face? Is that it? Is this some sort of race-thing?”
“No, not at all. Actually, Robert is the one telling me he wants to watch his wife get fucked by a black man. Since I am his superior, now, I told him he had to set me up for it. That is why you are here.”
“Oh, HELL no!!” I barked out and started to move around him.
His arm was out in a flash and around my waist, pulling me back. My skirt was floating around as I wriggled in his grasp, his arm easily wrapping around my trim waist, and he had two hands to use, versus my one as I was still holding my clutch. He started to paw at me, and as my legs his the couch, my knees bent and I landed with a bouncing thump. He was on me faster than I thought possible, and he was soon able to wriggle and grind his way between my knees, until he was in a missionary position over me, both of us fully clothed. Well, not exactly. In my grand plan to get Robert in a frenzy and get me pregnant, I wasn’t wearing panties, only the smallest of G-strings, a small sheer patch that barely held my labia closed. He immediately started to dry hump me.
Atop the couch, he had gotten one of my legs across the back, and the other on the floor, and I finally had the presence of mind to drop my clutch. But by then, his thrusting had slithered my skirt up to my waist and all I felt was the repeated drumming of his growing bulge against my vulva, and despite what he was doing, I felt the first pangs of arousal. I used both of my hands against his shoulders and squirmed, using all of my might to push him off.
“Dammit, Marlin! Get off of me!” I cried out. There was no use screaming, we were so far isolated that all I would do was hurt my own ears in the process. I had to convince him.
“Marlin, you are ****** me!” I declared.
“For now…” he growled, his face burrowing in to my neck and his lips and then teeth latched on. Feeling the familiar burn of excess suction, I could feel him begin to mark me on the tender flesh below my ear. There was no way I could stop him, and worse, it would be difficult to hide. All the while, his hips kept thrusting, albeit more slowly, but making me feel every gentle bump against my folds, and worse, my pearl.
I could not stop the mew that emitted from my lips, as he was battering my erogenous zones with an onslaught I hadn’t thought possible. I was struggling as best as my strength and physical endurance would allow me, but I was wearing out, and he seemed to just be getting started. I felt his lips finally break from my neck, and I dared reaching to caress the new soreness on my neck, only to suddenly feel his lips smash against mine, and his tongue attack, parting my lips and slackening my jaw, allowing his tongue to invade my mouth. I struggled with my own tongue, squealing as I tried to resist him, wrestling for some sort of dominance, until I faltered, his virility seemingly endless and far stronger than my husband’s. I could deny my husband’s kiss, but found myself unable to stop Marlin’s.
My hands had finally stopped trying to push him, and my legs relaxed, when he broke off and reared up. I watched as his hands went to unbuckle his pants.
“Oh, no, Marlin. Don’t even think it. I can’t let you do this. I am unprotected, and due to ovulate soon, if not already.”
“Deal with it.” Marlin almost snarled. “Either way, you are taking my cock, and are gonna' be my bitch.”
I was shocked when he addressed me that way, and my lips flapped wordlessly, unable to come up with some sort of retort. His nimble fingers worked quickly, and before I realized it, he was snaking out his black shaft, and starting to wave it at me. I could not believe how dark it was, certainly as dark as he was, and even in the dim light I could tell he was uncircumcised. Something I had never seen before. He leaned forward and began to slide it up and down my crotch, making me feel him through my G-string.
“I’m begging you, Marlin. Maybe in a few weeks or something?” I was trying to negotiate with my tormentor, now. “Anything but right now. How about once my husband gets me pregnant? I’ll screw you any time you want, then?”
He ignored me as he was trying to push into me, but didn’t realize I was wearing my G-string. Pulling back, he felt down and groped my vulva until his dark fingers found it. Then he gave a sharp yank to the side, exposing my vaginal opening, and a small trickle of my lover’s lube began to seep out. His fingers then reached down and began to slide along my folds, getting coated in my dew before forcing my gates apart and then his thick digit into me, his finger curled just inside my entrance and he began to twiddle my love-muscle as he found my sweet spot. It was then that I knew I was lost, and for the next however many minutes, I would become his.
I gasped loudly and my eyes rolled back in my head as his finger pad began to massage my most sensitive nerve endings, sending blast after blast of pure, unadulterated pleasure through me in waves that shook me to my core. At first I went limp, and then tense as he started to raise the level of raw sexual tension within me. He simply had to do this to me for I don’t know how long, and then I ceased any and all resistance. But it wasn’t long. He managed to do in five minutes what my husband had never done in seven years. Destroy my sense of self and desire to become a part of him. I no longer cared that it was Marlin, or that he was black, or that I was fertile. I needed to be laid, to have a man consume me, and I needed it right then and there, consequences be damned!
I was soon moaning, and then begging for him.
“Please... Please…Do it… stick your cock in me… Fuck me like a slut.” I remember begging him, as my body was trembling. My body was tense and ready to fuck right there on the couch, only he decided to pull me to the floor, and get on top of me, his free hand having stroked his cock until he was fully hard. He manhandled me into the position he wanted, on my back, knees wider, bent and balancing on my heels. My arms he had placed high over my head, and I my skirt was flared up onto my stomach, baring my body to his lewd and lecherous advance. He jostled himself into position over me and I felt his cock start to rub against my vulva, parting my folds even wider and I looked down, astonished by the cock the man had.
I had no idea men were actually built like that. I’ve seen porn movies, even the few interracial sex ones my husband liked to subject me to, so I wasn’t a prude, but it was just different seeing one in person. My husband had never failed at letting me know he was inside me, I could feel him when he entered me, every time. But Marlin was different. My eyes grew wide and I remember offering a sense of dread, murmuring “Oh no…” in that tone of voice when someone knows things are about to be difficult.
It was. Feeling his head engage was nothing abnormal, at first, but the slightest shift in his body made me feel it, that beginning stretch of my opening, my inner petals signaling that this was going to not be what I was used to. In truth, Marlin was half-again the size of my husband, but also the biggest I had ever had. So that made him an easy eight inches long, and maybe just shy of two inches in diameter. How women in those porn movies took those 12+ inch cocks still remains a mystery to me. The foreskin had pulled back due to his erection, and I at least recognized it for the danger it was. A man’s cock, uncovered and about to enter my unprotected and fertile womb. Then he hefted his weight onto that single point penetrating me, and I felt the first pangs of real discomfort, even pain.
I grimaced and grunted out. “Fuck! You’re hurting me!”
“Relax, Bitch, once I’m in, you’ll feel nothing but greatness.” Was his reply, his eyes boring into mine.
It became true and once my vagina began to relax, and he was able to stretch my opening, his firm and incessant thrusts made me feel more of him. He popped into my tunnel, and then each thrust made me feel a couple of more inches or so, until he was fully seated in me. I felt a fullness like no other, and he then lay his body atop mine, squashing my torso flat and helpless under him. Mentally and emotionally, I was in a state of disbelief, that I was stuck under the body of a filthy animal of a man, and I knew that I was being defiled tragically. I was a loyal white wife, now being ***** by a vile black man, and I was disgusted by him, and how my body was making me feel. Even as he lay still on me, my body invaded by him, I felt a sensation of what I can only describe as a curious pleasure. It was better than when I first lost my virginity, in the parking lot of one of my high school dances, and as I started to relax, and become used to his body in mine, I could identify the small clenching and squeezing of my vagina on his cock. I was somehow shocked that it felt so good. It was, as Marlin put it, “greatness”.
Marlin must’ve grown tired of waiting for my body, because he then began that slow cycle of human reproduction, slowly, even torturously withdrawing his hips, and therefore his cock from my depths, until I could feel the head of him at my entrance, and then slowly and inexorably feeling that first real pang of pleasure, as his cock rammed home, until his pubic bone smacked my erect pearl, and sent a wave of passion through me, to be punctuated by a burst of pleasure from my clit. I could not help my voice from a long, slow mewling. He then began to cycle all over again, the slow withdrawal, and then the more forceful penetration, making my voice mew at first, and then moan. He was using his cock to control me, and I couldn’t believe how effective he was at it, and how good he was making me feel. Robert had never made me feel anything close to this.
My eyes were locked on Marlin’s and I felt him prying my soul apart as he was taking me, and making me his woman in those moments. There was a silent but deadly communication between us, and I knew that I could never again try and deny this man from my body, or even my bed, if he demanded. I had no idea sex could feel this good, and as his hips began to grow into a rapid trip-hammering of my pussy, I realized that I was now in love with black cock. Black cock made me feel better than any white man ever had, or likely would. Robert, as much as I loved him, would be ranked as a pretty inconsistent lover, and Marlin became my new bar to judge all others by, and he was setting the bar quite high. As his frequency and power in thrusting increased, so did my voice, until I was wailing loudly, my cries of pleasure only punctuated when Marlin slammed his cock home deep inside me particularly firmly, or hit a special spot that only he was able to reach.
We never kissed after the first one, and for that I was grateful, for it was my last bastion of loyalty to my marriage, as Marlin was stealing my husband’s reproductive rights from him right there on the floor of a ballroom. A ballroom where my husband by now had to be wondering just where in the hell I was. I had checked in, and I had been seen, so I was known to be on the grounds, somewhere. I was, in only a physical sense. Emotionally and mentally, I was far away, floating above the scene, as in my mind’s eye, I envisioned Marlin over me, fucking me as my knees had now pulled up, and my heels were bouncing at his waist, my body widely availed to this once filthy and disgusting man. Only now he was my lover, and I found my voice starting to talk, speaking dirty language and despicable things that I would never have thought I was capable of saying.
“Fuck me, Marlin! Fuck me full of your cum!” I started. “Cum in me! Put your black bastard into me, you fucking black monkey!” and a few other racial things that I won’t repeat here. All it did was spur him on.
Not long after, I felt his pace change, and I felt my body starting to tingle from the depths of my womb. It would be a race to see who would climax first, or even if Marlin could make me cum from his black cock. My hands still lay above my head in supplication, at first defeated physically, and now defeated sexually, and my fingers were balled into tight fists as my toes curled. My legs straightened and my hips rotated to meet him, and I was splayed widely to accept his body as he mated with me. My body was working hard to be successful in what nature had desired, the successful procreation between male and female, regardless of the fact we were of two far-different races. My body wanted to have a black baby far more than I did.
That realization was the end of the race for me, and I screamed loudly, only once, and I shuddered violently under Marlin as he was now erratic in this pulsing thrusts, until he bellowed soon after and pile-drove his cock as far into my pussy as he could possibly manage, and held himself there. He was cumming in me, his hot, thick, sticky jets of black seed coating my quivering cervix to fertilize my white man’s garden. We were biologically farming, trying to grow a black baby. My pussy was massaging his pulsing black cock inside me, eager to milk his balls of every drop of his precious essence. No matter what happened now, I would be taking the risk of bearing Marlin’s child. Nothing could stop it now, no matter how I, or my husband felt about it.
I was laying there, gasping for breath as Marlin did the same, and I looked aside. I snorted softly as I realized that this was what Robert had wanted to watch all along. Only he wasn’t going to witness it. He wasn’t going to see that bigger black cock plunder my body and make me moan. He wasn’t going to see me taking the risk of impregnation, and having a black baby. He wasn’t going to see the chance that I was taking in changing how I viewed sex. My husband wasn’t going to get to see me defiled and violated in front of him. Robert wasn’t going to see any of it.
After several long seconds more, I heard the scariest thing in my life. The sound of two hands clapping. Slowly, but assuredly and very much audibly. I gasped, and turned my head to face the sound. All I could see was a pair of legs walking towards us, as Marlin was still laying on me, his cock unbelievably still draining his semen into my pussy.
“Damn… I almost missed this!” I heard the man say, and I instantly knew it was my husband. Suddenly I was beyond pissed.
“What?!?!?!” I exclaimed. “You knew I was here? What the fuck, Honey? He was ****** me!”
Marlin, for all I knew, was just laying there, dumbfounded. My entire focus was on my husband, and I really didn’t care at that point what Marlin did. He had already achieved his goal. Yet he still lay on top of me, pinning me down as my legs came down to rest, the pointed stilettos of my shoes landing on the floor. My hands were still above my head, and I hadn’t the sense to use them for anything.
“I don’t think so. From what I saw, and soon heard, you were into this, Baby. You were into his fucking you, and in a big way. I bet from now on, when I ask you to fuck a black guy for me, you will do it without a moment’s hesitation.”
I hadn’t the mental facilities at the moment to verbally spar with him, my mind was still abuzz with the coming down of the amazing sexual highs that Marlin gave me. I just glared at him.
“Asshole! I may be pregnant, now! Do you realize that?”
Robert nodded. “Yeah, I know. We even discussed it as a possibility. In a way, I kinda’ hope you do.”
“WHAT?????” I fairly screamed.
Marlin, by now, had recovered enough to join the argument, only he was much calmer. He even had the presence of mind to grab hold of my wrists before speaking.
“Yeah, we talked about it. It seems the risk turns him on. But he has always been a risk-taker at work, so it figures. That is why I got the promotion and he didn’t. His risk blew up in his face and cost the company about a million bucks. My work saved the company more than that, so I saved the division, and Robert is lucky he didn’t get fired. I saved his ass and he knows it. Fucking you is my price for his career, and now I hold his, and your future, in my hands… and in my balls.”
I went into a fury, kicking and struggling, all the while Marlin held me with relative ease. I wasn’t sure who to be angrier with. Robert, Marlin, or myself. In the end, I just wore out and Marlin finally rose to his knees, his cock soft and empty, leaving my pussy, with my folds distended. I looked to Rober6t for him to say something, but suddenly he looked defeated. He couldn’t look me in the eye, and I looked down. I finally saw it, a wet stain in the crotch of his grey suit. He had ejaculated in his pants. Closing my eyes softly, I just shook my head in disgust.
“Really Robert?”
I spent the rest of that night at the party, celebrating Marlin’s promotion, along with a number of others. My G-string was holding my vagina tightly closed, keeping Marlin’s seed from leaking from me. Being the good wife, smiling and making pleasantries, even getting compliments of the glow I had about me. Robert stood at my side as well, but I never held his hand, or his arm. I was so pissed at him that I could have cut his balls off with my fingernails. He was smart enough to mostly stay silent to me the rest of the night. But I did make use to Marlin’s company, and stayed on his arm as he would ask, smiling and taking compliments from those who did not know me. In essence, I spent that night as “his bitch” with his cum swimming inside my womb, following nature’s instructions for trying to make a baby. Marlin didn’t introduce me as anyone other than a friend, and at the end of the night, as everyone was leaving, Robert, Marlin and I met up.
Robert offered his arm, and I refused to take it.
“Tonight you showed me who earned my place at his side. You gave it to Marlin the moment you hatched that plan to give me to him. He has shown me what great sex really is like, and since I now risk carrying his baby, you don’t get to have sex with me until my period. I have to know who the father of my baby is. I won’t got through 9 months of not knowing.”
Robert protested, but I wasn’t even remotely interested in listening to him. Instead, I told him I would meet him at home, and ask Marlin to escort me to my car. I didn’t want to walk that neighborhood alone, dressed as I was. Having unwanted sex once was enough for me. Marlin got me safely to my car, only he was able to successfully extract a date night with him next weekend. Just a date, and who knew how it would end up, no pressure, he offered, and I accepted. In the back of my mind, having now been blacked, I was thinking I wanted more of it, if it was like Marlin’s sexual prowess.
When I got home, Robert was sulking and we got into a terrible fight, which ended with his sleeping in a motel. It took two days for us to be able to come to a mutual understanding, and a plan. Only then would I let him come home, and into bed with me. True to my word, he went without for those two weeks, while I let Marlin take advantage of me that date night, again. It was as amazing as the first time, only this time we started by making out, kissing and all the extra emotion-building touching and sharing. I became firmly enchanted with having sex with black guys.
------------------------------------------------
Eight months later, I was laying on the couch, spooning, with my swollen belly, while watching TV. I was not yet close to giving birth, but uncomfortable, and a bit bitchy.
“Robert, please get me some water?” I asked as politely as I could muster.
Robert got up from the chair and was complying with my request, when Marlin spoke softly from behind me.
“I would have done that.”
I shook my head. “Nah, you have earned your place in our house and now our marriage. You will be involved for the rest of our lives. Or you better be…” I let my voice trail off to deliver the threat I had intended.
He squeezed me gently from the arm draped over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” He kissed the back of my head.
The plan I had come up with was that whomever got to have me unprotected first would be the one who got a chance to put his baby into me for the month. The other man would still get to have sex with me, only with full protection. Condom, I wore my diaphragm, and he had to pull out. I wasn’t taking any chances of screwing up knowing who the father would be. For me, it was the best of both worlds. I got the best sex of my life with Marlin, and I still got to love the man I married and be a good wife to him. Although, truth be told, I was growing very, very fond of Marlin as well, in a different way.
In the end, Marlin won out two months later. He simply sent Robert on a business trip, and since Robert worked for him, away my husband went for four days. I slept with Marlin that first night, in our bed, and then I spent the next three days at his place, acting as his wife, in a way. I told Robert what was going on, and he was upset, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Marlin had to threaten to transfer him to another position that would have him traveling at least every other week, and that was what it took to shut my husband up.
So now I lay here, next to the father of my baby, nestled softly and uncomfortably, even now wondering what race my next baby would be.
