OUR WATER FEATURE
It was early in the Spring of last year when my wife, Cybil, and I were walking around the yard behind our house, idly talking about what our next project would be. We'd been slowly working to make our property more attractive ever since we bought the place about a year after we were married, and when we pronounced the front yard finished, we decided the back yard would be next.
There were already some nice flower beds back there, thanks to the previous owners, but we thought a centerpiece was needed to make the yard better, and after standing there talking about various things we could do, we finally decided what we'd like to see would be a fountain with water spraying from the top. So, that decision made, Cyb told me one of her friends, Gwen, had hired a man the summer before to make what she called a "water feature" in her yard, and according to my wife, anyway, the whole thing was very beautiful. So, since I could see her mind was already made up, I said she should find out the guy's name, and then make an appointment for him to come look at our place and talk about what he could do to make it look better.
It was a few days later when Cyb told me during dinner that the contractor had dropped by earlier that day, and she was really impressed by him. She told me he'd convinced her to not have a fountain, because the expense and maintenance was greater than any benefit we'd gain when we eventually put the place on the market. She said the guy had recommended instead a kidney-shaped, small and shallow pond, with a bubbler in the center and maybe a few goldfish to add color.
When I told her that would be fine with me, and that she should arrange for the guy to start work as soon as he could, she just smiled as she said, "Done and done, Honey. He'll be here Saturday afternoon, which surprised me, but he just told me he wanted to get started on me . . . uh, I mean on the project, just as soon as he could. Isn't it great that he's so enthusiastic about doing us? Uh . . . I mean about doing our yard. Anyway, I just can't wait for him to get started."
I guess her enthusiasm was catching, because both of us were so turned on that night that we actually had sex on a Thursday, which was a nice break from our usual Saturday night schedule. Not only that, but we didn't need to play the "sex game" that Cyb had come up with during our second year of being married, and that had quickly become our preferred way to get each other excited.
Her game involved us taking turns asking each other questions of a very-personal nature, which the other had to answer with absolute honesty. Surprisingly, to me at least, it invariably turned us on when we played it, because the questions revealed parts of us that we'd always kept hidden, in terms of our "kinks," anyway.
More about that later, because like I said we didn't need to resort to that way of getting each other hot and bothered, which was a first for us. In fact, she was turned on so much by the time we got in bed that she even told me to go down on her, which was something I'd always loved doing. That seemed to turn her on a whole lot, too, because she actually climaxed on my tongue, which was really rare.
And then to top that, she even took my cock in her mouth, and the rubber she always made me wear didn't do anything to keep me from cumming, and when I filled the thing she kept pumping and pumping me until I started shrinking. Then, she did something I'd been fantasizing about for a long time, which was to carefully strip the thing off my cock, order me to open my mouth, and empty the quart (or so it seemed, anyway) of slime inside it, then order me to "eat it, wimp."
That was great, and I had big hopes that she'd continue to be that turned on all the time our back yard was being worked on.
CHAPTER 2
The contractor, whose name was "Antwan," parked his truck in front of our garage in the middle of the afternoon Saturday. It would be the understatement of all time to say I was shocked when he got out, and a soon as I saw him the only thing I could think of was, "He's black!" Of course, there wasn't any reason for my wife to tell me that part, because she certainly couldn't have known that I had developed a strange fascination with a certain type of story on the sex sites I visited when Cyb was away from home.
As I read story after story dealing with something called, "White Extinction," I couldn't stop my imagination from putting the two of us in the situations that were being described, and every time the writer wrote of a white wife being bred and impregnated by a black man, while her wimpy white husband stood by helplessly, the couple instantly became us.
So, when I saw Antwan for the first time in my life, all I could think of was the handsome, very muscular, and definitely black man would soon be between my wife's widespread legs with his huge cock buried in her pussy.
He apparently didn't need any instructions from us about what to do, because instead of coming to the door he just unloaded a wheelbarrow from the back of his rig, then after filling it with yard tools he pushed it around the house. Both of us hurried to the back of the house and watched him through a kitchen window, as he drove some stakes into the ground and stretched string along them, forming the kidney shape of the pool.
He dug several shovelfuls of dirt and tossed them into the wheelbarrow, then when it was loaded he must have decided it was pretty hot out there, because he stopped working, unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it on the grass. And then, both Cyb and I couldn't do anything but stare and stare at his body that was naked from the waist up.
His dark-brown skin glistened with perspiration as he stood there catching his breath, and as he lifted the handles of the loaded wheelbarrow his huge muscles bulged with the effort, then rippled as he effortlessly pushed the thing to a back corner and dumped it. As he walked back toward us, I could see his six-pack rippling up and down his chest, and I know both my wife and I were starting to breathe faster and faster by the second.
It was when he came to a stop and let go of the handles that I saw something that literally took my breath away, and I heard my wife gasp and whisper, "My god . . . is that . . . is that . . . it? That can't be real, can it, Honey?"
I didn't need to ask her what she meant, because my own eyes were riveted on the beyond-huge bulge that showed through the right leg of his cut-off jeans. The bulge ran from his crotch, down his leg, then came to an end about halfway to his knee. All I could do was try to keep my eyes from bugging out any farther as they took in that wonderful bulge, doing their best to decipher how long the thing actually was.
I don't know how I ever found the strength to answer her question, but from somewhere far, far away, I heard my own whisper of, "It has to be. I . . . there can't be anything else that could . . . could look so real. I can see the outline of the head about halfway to his knee."
Cyb's strained whisper came again, asking, "But . . . couldn't it be like . . . like rolled up socks? Wouldn't they look like . . . that?"
All I could do was answer, "No way. Some of us guys used to . . . to do that in high school. . . and if they ever got out of our shorts, they'd fall down our legs. That was just the most-embarrassing thing that could ever happen to anyone." I had to take a deep breath before I could add, "If that was really a roll of socks, then all the turning and twisting he's doing would make it fall out. It has to be . . . real."
There must have been something in my voice that made her turn to look at me, and when I finally turned my head to look her way, she said, "Honey, seeing that thing is . . . it's . . . it's turning you on just as much as me, isn't it?"
Just as I had finally forced my mouth to open so I could answer her question, she said softly, "Let's play the questions game. Me first."
Then without waiting for me to agree, she asked, "Honey, does it turn you on to see Antwan's big muscles?"
She'd been training me for several months to answer her questions truthfully, and even though I knew it would get me in trouble, I just couldn't stop my mouth from uttering the word, "Yes."
She didn't comment, but merely asked her second question.
"Honey, if he told you to get on your knees in front of him, would you do it?"
More than any other questions she'd ever asked me, that one struck very deep, because she'd learned right after we started playing the game that when I was a kid, some of my friends used my mouth for sexual relief. She'd asked question after question about what kinds of services I'd provided to my friends, and how long it'd gone on, but when I told her, truthfully, that I hadn't done that sort of thing since graduating from high school, she seemed to lose interest.
Her question to me as the two of us stood there at the window watching Antwan's huge bulge made her interest more real, and I tried to think of some way to avoid answering it, but her steady gaze at my face at last broke through my reluctance. Unable to resist her, I just nodded my head, then whispered, "Yes."
Her third question was, "If he told you to take it out, would you do it?"
I had to literally force my tiny, "Yes," through my lips, then with my heart pounding in my ears I heard her next question.
"When he tells you to put it in your mouth, will you do it?"
By that point I was resigned to humiliating myself more than ever before, and I answered with another, "Yes."
Her fifth and final question was the easiest of all to answer, because I simply had no self-respect remaining.
"What will you do," she asked, "when he fills your mouth with his cum?"
All I could do was whisper, "I'll eat it. I'll swallow every drop."
I thought I was prepared for her response to my answers, but it simply stunned me when she hugged me tighter than she ever had before, then gave me the most-passionate kiss we'd ever shared. When she at last stepped back a short distance, she said, "Now it's your turn, Honey. Ask me anything you want, and I'll answer just as honestly as you did. Go ahead; ask me whatever you want to."
My brain was spinning more than it ever had, and the only question I could come up with was something I would never have said if I hadn't been so turned on by the fascinating bulge that seemed to be the only thing I could think about. I had to clear my throat a couple times before I could at last stammer my first question, but eventually I was able to force it out.
"If Antwan tells me to . . . to undress you . . . for him . . . will you let me?"
She gave me the most-evil smile I'd ever seen, then after whispering, "Good one, Honey," she gave me the answer I'd fantasized about time after time.
"I'd not only let you undress me for him, I'd help you in any way I could." Then after a short pause so both of us could catch our breath, she added, "Second question, Honey."
That one, too, had to be forced through my almost-locked throat before I was able to squeak, "If he tells me to . . . to put you on the bed and . . . and hold your legs . . . apart . . . would you let me?"
Another brief smile passed across her face, quickly followed by her soft words.
"I'll get on the bed, or any other place he wants me, and I'll help you get my legs just as far apart as they'll go."
By then I'd forgot how many questions I'd already asked, so I had to stop to think before I asked the third one.
"If he gets on top of you and . . . and tells me to put his cock inside . . . your . . . pussy, will you let me?"
A split-second later she answered, "Honey, I'll not only let you put him in me, I'll order you to do it."
And with that question and answer my brain simply shut down, and all I could do was stand there hugging the person I loved more than my life itself, and watch Antwan's huge muscles rippling as he dug and hauled the dirt. Most of all, though, my eyes were locked on the bulge that ran down his right thigh, and I could think of nothing but what it would be like to watch him fucking and fucking and fucking my wife, and putting his baby inside her.
And then as Antwan paused to wipe his face with a handkerchief, I heard Cyb's voice saying the words I'd never, ever guessed she would utter.
CHAPTER 3
"Honey, I think we need to invite him to come inside and take a break, don't you? I think both of us need to see that bulge close-up, so we can decide where to go from there. Okay? Would you go out there and ask him to come inside? Please? Why don't you tell him we have some Coors Light in the fridge? Gwen told me that's his favorite thing to drink, so maybe that'll make him come in so we can see his thing close-up. Okay?"
I no longer possessed the ability to speak, but at least my legs still worked, and all on its own my body turned away from the window and walked to the back door. I remember opening it and walking into the yard where Antwan was working, but when he saw me and stopped working, then stood there idly running his hand up and down the huge bulge in his pants leg, my mind must have gone blank. The next thing I remember is him pumping my hand and saying, "Glad to meet'cha. Cyb told me your name's William, so's it okay if I call you Willie?"
I guess I must have nodded my head, because he said, "Good. It fits you. I'm Antwan, and Mama told me she named me that because it means 'priceless.' I don' know 'bout that part, but I been told by lots of women I'm worth more in bed than any man they ever knew."
That made him break out laughing, and just like that I fell in love with him, which was an emotion I hadn't felt toward another male since my best friend introduced me to sex the year I entered puberty. And just like I used to do with my friend, I wanted to drop to my knees and give Antwan all the pleasure I could with my hands and mouth. Luckily for me, he brought me back to reality.
"You come to check up on me, see if I'm doin' it right?" he asked.
It took me a second or two to remember why I was there with him, and I said, "No, not at all. You're the expert here, not me. My wife sent me out to ask you to come inside where it's cool and take a break. We have four six-packs of Coors Light in the refrigerator, and we'd like to share them with you."
"Hell, man," he began, "you said the magic word. I can't resist that stuff, even when it makes me horny when I drink it. I'm warning you, don't let me drink more than five or six bottles, 'cause I might make a pass at your beautiful wife if I do." He laughed out loud at that, and I was helpless not to join in, but I came to my senses with a jolt when I heard my mouth say, "Well, you can have every bottle if you want."
I guess my words weren't the sort of thing he was waiting to hear, and he grew quiet for a few seconds, then as he looked deep into my eyes, he asked, "So . . . uh, you don't have any hang-ups about a black man, uh, you know . . . like . . . being friendly with your wife, so to speak?"
My only response was to take his hand in mine again, then lead him toward the back door as I mumbled, "She's the one in charge . . . around here . . . and it's up to her to . . . uh, you know."
As we reached the door he said under his breath, just barely loud enough for me to hear, "Yeah, I know lots of white women like that."
And then the door was standing open and I stepped out of the way so he could walk into our kitchen first, where my wife stood waiting with a bottle of beer in each hand, already opened. And then she pointed to one of the chairs around the table and said, "You can sit here, Antwan. I'm so glad you came inside where it's cool. We certainly wouldn't want you to get too hot out there, and maybe pass out, would we?"
As he seated himself she set the two bottles in front of him while saying, "Gwen told me to be sure to have at least six bottles ready for you, so I bought four six-packs yesterday just to make sure we have enough."
As he took a huge swallow from the first bottle, Cyb opened one for herself and began taking drink after drink from it, almost as if she wanted to get in the mood right along with him. There was only one six-pack on the table, and with no more thought wasted on what I was doing, I got a second from the refrigerator, set it on the table and started working on a bottle of my own.
Cyb had seated herself just around the corner of the table from Antwan, and as she sipped her beer she idly put one hand on his arm and slowly stroked it as he and I watched what she was doing. As she continued doing that, she said softly, "I've never seen such beautiful muscles on a man. Do you work out a lot? Is that why you're so strong?"
He'd finished the second bottle by then, and after he'd stifled a belch with his hand, he said, "Nah, I've always had 'em; Daddy was a big man with big muscles, and I guess that's where mine came from. Actually, I got lots of things from him, and I s'pose that's why I'm big all over."
There was an intense period of silence in the kitchen at that point, broken an eternity later by my wife's whisper.
"What's . . . what's that . . . mean? Where else are you . . . big?"
All he did was chuckle deep in his throat, then after he'd chug-a-lugged the third bottle, he looked directly at her while he twisted the cap off his fourth bottle. After swallowing almost half of that one with three huge gulps, he wiped the back of his hand across his lips, then said, "Why don' y'all tell me where you like your men to be big?"
That bottle was emptied by the time Cyb had overcome her intense embarrassment, and I pushed his fifth toward him after quickly removing its top. It was all I could do to force myself to breathe as my wife stammered in embarrassment as she tried to answer his question.
"Well, I . . . I guess I've always assumed that . . . that most women want . . . uh . . . for her men to . . . to be big enough to, like, uh . . .get the job done when they . . . uh . . . get friendly."
The fifth bottle was history by the time she'd forced out those words, and the sixth that I'd opened for him was in his other hand. He said nothing as he continued to stare directly at her blushing face, but merely tipped the bottle straight up and let the beer run down his throat. As he slammed the empty on the tabletop, he said in a threatening tone of voice, "You'all's about to learn what happens to white bitches when they think they can get away with funnin' a black man."
He put both hands on the edge of the table in front of him, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He didn't hesitate at all, but merely moved to the corner separating them, and while I stared with every bit of my attention, he picked up my wife's empty hand and placed it on the bulge running down the leg of his cut-offs.
As Cyb gasped, he said, "That muscle right there's the one gets the most work when it comes to white sluts like you, if'n you know what I mean." Then, when her fingers closed around the thing that held her rapt attention, he turned his head toward me and said the words I'd been fantasizing about ever since he first drove up to our house.
CHAPTER 4
"Willie, get over here," was all he needed to say to make me jump out of my chair and hurry around the table towards him. Even before I came to a complete halt, he had a huge hand on my shoulder, pushing down on it as he said, "Down, boy. Let's give your wife a better look at what she's playin' with. An' maybe you can take a closer look of your own, while you're down there."
I was completely powerless to prevent my knees from folding, and before I even knew it was happening I was resting on them with my bulging eyes fixed on Cyb's hand as it massaged and caressed the part of Antwan that had become the center of both our worlds. And then I heard his deep voice speaking to me from far above my head, saying, "You know what to do, white boy. Take 'em off, an' be quick 'bout it."
My hands needed no more instructions than that, and a split-second later my fingers were fumbling with the brass button holding the waistband closed, and then jerking down the zipper. His jeans seemed to fall of their own accord when my wife released her grip on his bulge, but once they were below his knees, I didn't give them another thought, because his beautiful black cock with its huge, freckled head was throbbing just inches from my face and it was all I could do to convince myself that it was real, that it was flesh and blood, and that it was the stuff of all the fantasies I'd had for many years, all centered on the hundreds of times when I'd taken much-smaller ones in my mouth and licked and sucked them until they gave me what I wanted, what I needed, and what I craved.
And then Cyb was whispering, "Honey, put it in your mouth and suck it. Suck it just like Gwen's husband did last year before he fucked her. I want you to make him cum so when he fucks me it'll be fresh and he'll get me pregnant lots faster. Do it, god damn you! Suck him and make him cum in your mouth, faggot!"
I don't remember lifting the heavy shaft so the head was pointing at my face, but I must have because before I even knew it had happened, the head and as much of the shaft as I could take were filling my mouth. All the lessons I'd been given when I was just a kid came flooding back, and my tongue began to lick and my throat to suck and my head to bob back and forth so my lips were masturbating him.
I remember seeing one of my wife's hands caressing Antwan's huge balls, and hearing her pleading with him to, "Do it! Cum in his mouth so he can eat it! Empty your balls so you can fill me with a fresh load. Please, Antwan, feed him and do me next. I need it so bad!"
And right on cue I felt the monstrous head seemingly double in size and grow so hard that it felt like I was licking polished steel, and then I began moaning as his burning-hot cum filled my mouth so fast that I could barely swallow quickly enough to keep up with it. But I guess I did, because when he at last pulled it away from my lips, not even one drop dribbled down my chin.
And then I was being pulled to my feet by his strong arms, and when I was at last standing on my own he said, "Get her ready for me, Willie. If she ain't naked in 30 seconds I'll take my knife to your nuts. Move!"
She was already standing up from her chair by the time I walked around him, and as my fingers released the buttons on her blouse, she hissed, "Hurry, damn you! I'm going to die if I have to wait even one minute longer. I've been thinking about him ever since Gwen started bragging about how she was carrying his baby, and he'd probably never want to fuck me like he did her. Well, now I'm going to show her a thing or two; I'm going to have two babies, and she'll know who he loves best."
By the time she finished those words, I'd already peeled off her blouse and bra, and was working on her slippers and socks. They had barely had time to come to a stop after I'd tossed them across the room before I was unbuttoning her slacks and pulling them down her legs. And then there was nothing left to take off but her panties, and when I pulled them down below her crotch, I froze in place as my brain refused to process the information my eyes were sending to it.
Her crotch was entirely bare, rather than being covered with the bush of pubic hair she'd always had, and that told me, more than anything else ever could, that she'd been planning this moment longer than I knew, and she wanted her pussy to be on full display for her black lover.
Somehow my hands managed to take off the scrap of cloth that had been protecting her last bit of modesty, and as I looked up at her distended nipples and then down at the glistening moisture between her legs, I knew she was more turned on right then than she'd ever been with me. And I loved knowing that more than I could possibly say.
It took Antwan's rumbling order of, "Get your ass on the table, bitch. 'Twan's gonna knock you up but good today. After the fucking I'm gonna give you, ain't no other man ever gonna satisfy you. Get up there. Now!"
I watched her back up to the edge of the table, then place both hands on the top so she could lift her bottom where it needed to be. She wiggled back and forth as she adjusted her position so her pussy was barely past the edge, then quickly lowered her upper body until it was lying flat.
Antwan's order momentarily confused me, but as soon as my brain interpreted his words of, "Get around there and pull her arms back as far as they'll go, white boy. Get her stretched out so I can see her tits standing up like I like. Move!" I was pulling her arms back over her head, making her chest arch and her breasts push up.
I'd never, ever guessed that such a simple thing could make her nipples grow bigger than I'd ever seen them, but it did. They were so big and hard and beautiful that it took every bit of my willpower to not lean over and suck them one by one into my mouth.
It took his moving toward her crotch, then standing between her legs, to distract me from the vision her breasts were presenting, but distract me it did. I watched without breathing as he lifted his monster in one hand, amazed beyond words that the thing was still hard, even though I'd made him cum less than two minutes before.
He rubbed the head up and down my wife's slit, bringing gasp after sigh after gasp from her lips, and all the time laughing at the way his simple act was exciting her more than I'd ever thought possible. And then he paused for a split second to say, "Get ready, bitch. 'Twan's gonna give you the fuckin' of your life," and all I could do was whimper as he began pushing the head inside that part of her body that I had always thought of as my exclusive property.
My whimpers blended with her sighs, and then with her soft words of, "Oh, god! It'll never fit; he'll kill me with it; it's too big; I didn't know it'd be so big," and on and on with other words I can't remember. As for me, I could do nothing but stand there pulling my wife's arms and watching that black cock slowly but surely working its way inside the woman I loved more than my life itself.
I have no idea at all how long it was before I heard his explosive, "Shit!" followed by his fervent, "Get ready, bitch! I'se gonna put two babies in your cunt so's you can brag to all your friends about it!" And then, just a heartbeat later his crotch surged forward and locked in place as the final inch of his monster disappeared inside my wife's pussy.
I heard her scream of passion becoming higher and higher pitched, until at last it went beyond my range of hearing, and when I looked down at her face I saw her eyes were clamped shut and her expression was about half ecstasy and half pain. I'd never before heard her making that sort of noise, or seen her looking like that, but judging by what was being forced inside her body, I couldn't blame her for it, because right then I wanted nothing more than for it to be me stretched out over the table, feeling his huge cock invading that part of me that needed him more than I can say.
Both Antwan's and Cyb's bodies collapsed at the same time, and as she seemingly melted into the tabletop, he stood there leaning forward, supported by his outstretched arms as he gasped for air.
And then it was all over, and my wife was ordering me to suck her lover's cock clean, and I was on my knees before I even knew I had moved. I couldn't get all of it in my mouth, of course, but by sucking as much as I could and licking the rest of it, it was eventually clean enough that he told me to put his cutoffs back on him, and I did.
He left the house with a seventh bottle of beer in his hand, and a casual, "Well, that's all the time I got for fucking today. Lots and lots of dirt waiting out there for me. You folks behave yourself now, and I'll go finish the digging. I'll be back Monday to pour the concrete, so if you need another fucking, Cyb, just let me know and I'll try to work it into my schedule."
And then the door closed behind him, leaving me standing there watching him walking back to the fresh hole in our yard, and unable to move until my wife's voice broke through my semi-conscious funk.
CHAPTER 5
I heard her hoarse voice whisper, "Hold my legs up in the air."
Her order didn't make a bit of sense to me, but I knew better than to disobey it, so I struggled to stand, then took the single step needed to get me right in front of her exhausted body. Both her legs were dangling loosely over the edge of the table, so it didn't take any brainpower on my part to know I was supposed to grasp an ankle in each hand, then lift her feet high over my head. So that's what I did, and the result was to open her crotch and then all I could do was gaze awestruck at that part of my wife's body that had made me her slave even before we were married.
As I had lifted her legs and her crotch opened, I could see Antwan's cum sluggishly oozing from her gaping pussy, and that sight held so much of my attention that it took me a few seconds to understand what she meant when she whispered, "Gwen told me to do this part, because it's supposed to help his stuff find my womb and get me pregnant. I just can't wait before I have a baby bump to brag about, just like she's been bragging about hers for a long time."
Unable to think of any sort of intelligent response to that information, I continued to stand mute and stare at the sticky stuff as the flow reversed and began to run back into her pussy. Both of us struggled to breathe as the minutes ticked away, until at last she said, in her normal voice, "You want me to have his baby, don't you, Honey? Isn't that why you went and got him for me, and why you helped him every step of the way?"
Then it way my turn to try to speak through a constricted throat, and force out the words she wanted to hear.
"I want that more than anything else in the whole world. I've been fantasizing about other men . . . doing that to you . . . ever since our honeymoon. About all I could think about was Stephen (my best man at our wedding) asking me as we put on our tuxedos if I wanted him to go to with us, so he could show me the proper way to fuck a woman.
"Now that I've seen how wonderful it is to see another man . . . doing that . . . it's just . . . just more wonderful than I ever thought it could be."
It took a while for her to process my words, and then she chuckled and said, "Believe me, Honey, it's more wonderful for me than it ever could be in a million years for you. I never even guessed what it'd feel like to have something like Antwan's cock inside me, and to know that it was bare rather than wearing a rubber like I've always made you do, and that he was going to cum inside me and get me pregnant. Gwen's been telling me for months how wonderful it is to be fucked by a real cock, and now I know why she never could describe just how it'd feel."
Both of us remained silent for a long time, and I'm sure she was imagining right along with me what was happening inside her womb as it filled with Antwan's cum, and how it was finding her egg, and how all his little swimmers were racing each other to be the one to make a baby start growing inside her. She was the first to break the utter stillness in the kitchen, and her words almost made me black out as she described our future together.
"Honey, there's something else we need to talk about, because it's really, really important for both of us, and we need to decide what we're going to do."
She paused again, then seemingly changed the subject as she said, "I think his cum's done what it was supposed to do, so why don't you get down in front of me and put my legs over your shoulders. I don't want his cum to start running out of me after I get dressed, so why don't you suck it out of me and eat it. Will you do that for me, Honey? Please?"
I don't remember even dropping to the floor, but I guess I must have because I clearly remember her legs resting on my shoulders and his cum filling my mouth as I sucked and swallowed just as fast as I could. And the next thing I remember is her telling me about our future together.
CHAPTER 6
"Gwen told me what's going to happen to Doug (her husband) as soon as Antwan's baby is born. He's been telling her that he doesn't want Doug to be able to get her pregnant, so they're going to let him choose how they'll do that part, and it's pretty exciting to think about. What I want to do is tell you what your choices will be, and you can decide how you want to take care of things. I've been hoping for a long time that you'll want the same solution Doug chose, because it's just about the most-exciting thing ever to think about you doing, too.
"Anyway, she and Antwan gave Doug three choices: First, she can divorce him and he can go live somewhere else. Second, he can choose to be castrated, so his stuff won't be able to get her pregnant if he screws her." She paused then and took two huge gulps of air, then continued. "It's the third choice that he wants to have done to him, and when she told me what it involved, it's just about all I've been able to think about ever since."
She left me unable to breathe for what seemed like an eternity, then at last took pity on me and told me about the third option, the one her friend's husband had chosen for himself.
"What they're going to do as soon as the baby's old enough to travel is to fly down to a city in Mexico that has one of those sex-change clinics. She says they've already made an appointment to have his dick removed by one of the surgeons, and the reason they want to do it that way is because there's a big risk of him bleeding to death if he becomes a eunuch at home, and there's no one there who knows how to tie off the bleeders.
"I think that'd be the best way for us to do it, but it's up to you to make the choice. If all you want is a regular castration, then any veterinarian could do that, because it's apparently a pretty simple thing. I'm hoping you won't choose that way to make you safe around me, because from what I've read, when a man gets castrated, there's a good chance he'll lose interest in sex, and I'd hate for that to happen to you, because you're lots better at eating my pussy than any other man who's ever done that.
"So . . . do you want some time to think about it, Honey? I know it's a pretty big decision for you to make, so maybe you'd like more time to think about it before deciding."
Her lips had barely closed when I was hugging her close and giving her my answer.
"I don't need time to think about it. I want us to take a vacation in Mexico as soon as our baby can travel."
The End
__________________________________
Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
It was early in the Spring of last year when my wife, Cybil, and I were walking around the yard behind our house, idly talking about what our next project would be. We'd been slowly working to make our property more attractive ever since we bought the place about a year after we were married, and when we pronounced the front yard finished, we decided the back yard would be next.
There were already some nice flower beds back there, thanks to the previous owners, but we thought a centerpiece was needed to make the yard better, and after standing there talking about various things we could do, we finally decided what we'd like to see would be a fountain with water spraying from the top. So, that decision made, Cyb told me one of her friends, Gwen, had hired a man the summer before to make what she called a "water feature" in her yard, and according to my wife, anyway, the whole thing was very beautiful. So, since I could see her mind was already made up, I said she should find out the guy's name, and then make an appointment for him to come look at our place and talk about what he could do to make it look better.
It was a few days later when Cyb told me during dinner that the contractor had dropped by earlier that day, and she was really impressed by him. She told me he'd convinced her to not have a fountain, because the expense and maintenance was greater than any benefit we'd gain when we eventually put the place on the market. She said the guy had recommended instead a kidney-shaped, small and shallow pond, with a bubbler in the center and maybe a few goldfish to add color.
When I told her that would be fine with me, and that she should arrange for the guy to start work as soon as he could, she just smiled as she said, "Done and done, Honey. He'll be here Saturday afternoon, which surprised me, but he just told me he wanted to get started on me . . . uh, I mean on the project, just as soon as he could. Isn't it great that he's so enthusiastic about doing us? Uh . . . I mean about doing our yard. Anyway, I just can't wait for him to get started."
I guess her enthusiasm was catching, because both of us were so turned on that night that we actually had sex on a Thursday, which was a nice break from our usual Saturday night schedule. Not only that, but we didn't need to play the "sex game" that Cyb had come up with during our second year of being married, and that had quickly become our preferred way to get each other excited.
Her game involved us taking turns asking each other questions of a very-personal nature, which the other had to answer with absolute honesty. Surprisingly, to me at least, it invariably turned us on when we played it, because the questions revealed parts of us that we'd always kept hidden, in terms of our "kinks," anyway.
More about that later, because like I said we didn't need to resort to that way of getting each other hot and bothered, which was a first for us. In fact, she was turned on so much by the time we got in bed that she even told me to go down on her, which was something I'd always loved doing. That seemed to turn her on a whole lot, too, because she actually climaxed on my tongue, which was really rare.
And then to top that, she even took my cock in her mouth, and the rubber she always made me wear didn't do anything to keep me from cumming, and when I filled the thing she kept pumping and pumping me until I started shrinking. Then, she did something I'd been fantasizing about for a long time, which was to carefully strip the thing off my cock, order me to open my mouth, and empty the quart (or so it seemed, anyway) of slime inside it, then order me to "eat it, wimp."
That was great, and I had big hopes that she'd continue to be that turned on all the time our back yard was being worked on.
CHAPTER 2
The contractor, whose name was "Antwan," parked his truck in front of our garage in the middle of the afternoon Saturday. It would be the understatement of all time to say I was shocked when he got out, and a soon as I saw him the only thing I could think of was, "He's black!" Of course, there wasn't any reason for my wife to tell me that part, because she certainly couldn't have known that I had developed a strange fascination with a certain type of story on the sex sites I visited when Cyb was away from home.
As I read story after story dealing with something called, "White Extinction," I couldn't stop my imagination from putting the two of us in the situations that were being described, and every time the writer wrote of a white wife being bred and impregnated by a black man, while her wimpy white husband stood by helplessly, the couple instantly became us.
So, when I saw Antwan for the first time in my life, all I could think of was the handsome, very muscular, and definitely black man would soon be between my wife's widespread legs with his huge cock buried in her pussy.
He apparently didn't need any instructions from us about what to do, because instead of coming to the door he just unloaded a wheelbarrow from the back of his rig, then after filling it with yard tools he pushed it around the house. Both of us hurried to the back of the house and watched him through a kitchen window, as he drove some stakes into the ground and stretched string along them, forming the kidney shape of the pool.
He dug several shovelfuls of dirt and tossed them into the wheelbarrow, then when it was loaded he must have decided it was pretty hot out there, because he stopped working, unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it on the grass. And then, both Cyb and I couldn't do anything but stare and stare at his body that was naked from the waist up.
His dark-brown skin glistened with perspiration as he stood there catching his breath, and as he lifted the handles of the loaded wheelbarrow his huge muscles bulged with the effort, then rippled as he effortlessly pushed the thing to a back corner and dumped it. As he walked back toward us, I could see his six-pack rippling up and down his chest, and I know both my wife and I were starting to breathe faster and faster by the second.
It was when he came to a stop and let go of the handles that I saw something that literally took my breath away, and I heard my wife gasp and whisper, "My god . . . is that . . . is that . . . it? That can't be real, can it, Honey?"
I didn't need to ask her what she meant, because my own eyes were riveted on the beyond-huge bulge that showed through the right leg of his cut-off jeans. The bulge ran from his crotch, down his leg, then came to an end about halfway to his knee. All I could do was try to keep my eyes from bugging out any farther as they took in that wonderful bulge, doing their best to decipher how long the thing actually was.
I don't know how I ever found the strength to answer her question, but from somewhere far, far away, I heard my own whisper of, "It has to be. I . . . there can't be anything else that could . . . could look so real. I can see the outline of the head about halfway to his knee."
Cyb's strained whisper came again, asking, "But . . . couldn't it be like . . . like rolled up socks? Wouldn't they look like . . . that?"
All I could do was answer, "No way. Some of us guys used to . . . to do that in high school. . . and if they ever got out of our shorts, they'd fall down our legs. That was just the most-embarrassing thing that could ever happen to anyone." I had to take a deep breath before I could add, "If that was really a roll of socks, then all the turning and twisting he's doing would make it fall out. It has to be . . . real."
There must have been something in my voice that made her turn to look at me, and when I finally turned my head to look her way, she said, "Honey, seeing that thing is . . . it's . . . it's turning you on just as much as me, isn't it?"
Just as I had finally forced my mouth to open so I could answer her question, she said softly, "Let's play the questions game. Me first."
Then without waiting for me to agree, she asked, "Honey, does it turn you on to see Antwan's big muscles?"
She'd been training me for several months to answer her questions truthfully, and even though I knew it would get me in trouble, I just couldn't stop my mouth from uttering the word, "Yes."
She didn't comment, but merely asked her second question.
"Honey, if he told you to get on your knees in front of him, would you do it?"
More than any other questions she'd ever asked me, that one struck very deep, because she'd learned right after we started playing the game that when I was a kid, some of my friends used my mouth for sexual relief. She'd asked question after question about what kinds of services I'd provided to my friends, and how long it'd gone on, but when I told her, truthfully, that I hadn't done that sort of thing since graduating from high school, she seemed to lose interest.
Her question to me as the two of us stood there at the window watching Antwan's huge bulge made her interest more real, and I tried to think of some way to avoid answering it, but her steady gaze at my face at last broke through my reluctance. Unable to resist her, I just nodded my head, then whispered, "Yes."
Her third question was, "If he told you to take it out, would you do it?"
I had to literally force my tiny, "Yes," through my lips, then with my heart pounding in my ears I heard her next question.
"When he tells you to put it in your mouth, will you do it?"
By that point I was resigned to humiliating myself more than ever before, and I answered with another, "Yes."
Her fifth and final question was the easiest of all to answer, because I simply had no self-respect remaining.
"What will you do," she asked, "when he fills your mouth with his cum?"
All I could do was whisper, "I'll eat it. I'll swallow every drop."
I thought I was prepared for her response to my answers, but it simply stunned me when she hugged me tighter than she ever had before, then gave me the most-passionate kiss we'd ever shared. When she at last stepped back a short distance, she said, "Now it's your turn, Honey. Ask me anything you want, and I'll answer just as honestly as you did. Go ahead; ask me whatever you want to."
My brain was spinning more than it ever had, and the only question I could come up with was something I would never have said if I hadn't been so turned on by the fascinating bulge that seemed to be the only thing I could think about. I had to clear my throat a couple times before I could at last stammer my first question, but eventually I was able to force it out.
"If Antwan tells me to . . . to undress you . . . for him . . . will you let me?"
She gave me the most-evil smile I'd ever seen, then after whispering, "Good one, Honey," she gave me the answer I'd fantasized about time after time.
"I'd not only let you undress me for him, I'd help you in any way I could." Then after a short pause so both of us could catch our breath, she added, "Second question, Honey."
That one, too, had to be forced through my almost-locked throat before I was able to squeak, "If he tells me to . . . to put you on the bed and . . . and hold your legs . . . apart . . . would you let me?"
Another brief smile passed across her face, quickly followed by her soft words.
"I'll get on the bed, or any other place he wants me, and I'll help you get my legs just as far apart as they'll go."
By then I'd forgot how many questions I'd already asked, so I had to stop to think before I asked the third one.
"If he gets on top of you and . . . and tells me to put his cock inside . . . your . . . pussy, will you let me?"
A split-second later she answered, "Honey, I'll not only let you put him in me, I'll order you to do it."
And with that question and answer my brain simply shut down, and all I could do was stand there hugging the person I loved more than my life itself, and watch Antwan's huge muscles rippling as he dug and hauled the dirt. Most of all, though, my eyes were locked on the bulge that ran down his right thigh, and I could think of nothing but what it would be like to watch him fucking and fucking and fucking my wife, and putting his baby inside her.
And then as Antwan paused to wipe his face with a handkerchief, I heard Cyb's voice saying the words I'd never, ever guessed she would utter.
CHAPTER 3
"Honey, I think we need to invite him to come inside and take a break, don't you? I think both of us need to see that bulge close-up, so we can decide where to go from there. Okay? Would you go out there and ask him to come inside? Please? Why don't you tell him we have some Coors Light in the fridge? Gwen told me that's his favorite thing to drink, so maybe that'll make him come in so we can see his thing close-up. Okay?"
I no longer possessed the ability to speak, but at least my legs still worked, and all on its own my body turned away from the window and walked to the back door. I remember opening it and walking into the yard where Antwan was working, but when he saw me and stopped working, then stood there idly running his hand up and down the huge bulge in his pants leg, my mind must have gone blank. The next thing I remember is him pumping my hand and saying, "Glad to meet'cha. Cyb told me your name's William, so's it okay if I call you Willie?"
I guess I must have nodded my head, because he said, "Good. It fits you. I'm Antwan, and Mama told me she named me that because it means 'priceless.' I don' know 'bout that part, but I been told by lots of women I'm worth more in bed than any man they ever knew."
That made him break out laughing, and just like that I fell in love with him, which was an emotion I hadn't felt toward another male since my best friend introduced me to sex the year I entered puberty. And just like I used to do with my friend, I wanted to drop to my knees and give Antwan all the pleasure I could with my hands and mouth. Luckily for me, he brought me back to reality.
"You come to check up on me, see if I'm doin' it right?" he asked.
It took me a second or two to remember why I was there with him, and I said, "No, not at all. You're the expert here, not me. My wife sent me out to ask you to come inside where it's cool and take a break. We have four six-packs of Coors Light in the refrigerator, and we'd like to share them with you."
"Hell, man," he began, "you said the magic word. I can't resist that stuff, even when it makes me horny when I drink it. I'm warning you, don't let me drink more than five or six bottles, 'cause I might make a pass at your beautiful wife if I do." He laughed out loud at that, and I was helpless not to join in, but I came to my senses with a jolt when I heard my mouth say, "Well, you can have every bottle if you want."
I guess my words weren't the sort of thing he was waiting to hear, and he grew quiet for a few seconds, then as he looked deep into my eyes, he asked, "So . . . uh, you don't have any hang-ups about a black man, uh, you know . . . like . . . being friendly with your wife, so to speak?"
My only response was to take his hand in mine again, then lead him toward the back door as I mumbled, "She's the one in charge . . . around here . . . and it's up to her to . . . uh, you know."
As we reached the door he said under his breath, just barely loud enough for me to hear, "Yeah, I know lots of white women like that."
And then the door was standing open and I stepped out of the way so he could walk into our kitchen first, where my wife stood waiting with a bottle of beer in each hand, already opened. And then she pointed to one of the chairs around the table and said, "You can sit here, Antwan. I'm so glad you came inside where it's cool. We certainly wouldn't want you to get too hot out there, and maybe pass out, would we?"
As he seated himself she set the two bottles in front of him while saying, "Gwen told me to be sure to have at least six bottles ready for you, so I bought four six-packs yesterday just to make sure we have enough."
As he took a huge swallow from the first bottle, Cyb opened one for herself and began taking drink after drink from it, almost as if she wanted to get in the mood right along with him. There was only one six-pack on the table, and with no more thought wasted on what I was doing, I got a second from the refrigerator, set it on the table and started working on a bottle of my own.
Cyb had seated herself just around the corner of the table from Antwan, and as she sipped her beer she idly put one hand on his arm and slowly stroked it as he and I watched what she was doing. As she continued doing that, she said softly, "I've never seen such beautiful muscles on a man. Do you work out a lot? Is that why you're so strong?"
He'd finished the second bottle by then, and after he'd stifled a belch with his hand, he said, "Nah, I've always had 'em; Daddy was a big man with big muscles, and I guess that's where mine came from. Actually, I got lots of things from him, and I s'pose that's why I'm big all over."
There was an intense period of silence in the kitchen at that point, broken an eternity later by my wife's whisper.
"What's . . . what's that . . . mean? Where else are you . . . big?"
All he did was chuckle deep in his throat, then after he'd chug-a-lugged the third bottle, he looked directly at her while he twisted the cap off his fourth bottle. After swallowing almost half of that one with three huge gulps, he wiped the back of his hand across his lips, then said, "Why don' y'all tell me where you like your men to be big?"
That bottle was emptied by the time Cyb had overcome her intense embarrassment, and I pushed his fifth toward him after quickly removing its top. It was all I could do to force myself to breathe as my wife stammered in embarrassment as she tried to answer his question.
"Well, I . . . I guess I've always assumed that . . . that most women want . . . uh . . . for her men to . . . to be big enough to, like, uh . . .get the job done when they . . . uh . . . get friendly."
The fifth bottle was history by the time she'd forced out those words, and the sixth that I'd opened for him was in his other hand. He said nothing as he continued to stare directly at her blushing face, but merely tipped the bottle straight up and let the beer run down his throat. As he slammed the empty on the tabletop, he said in a threatening tone of voice, "You'all's about to learn what happens to white bitches when they think they can get away with funnin' a black man."
He put both hands on the edge of the table in front of him, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He didn't hesitate at all, but merely moved to the corner separating them, and while I stared with every bit of my attention, he picked up my wife's empty hand and placed it on the bulge running down the leg of his cut-offs.
As Cyb gasped, he said, "That muscle right there's the one gets the most work when it comes to white sluts like you, if'n you know what I mean." Then, when her fingers closed around the thing that held her rapt attention, he turned his head toward me and said the words I'd been fantasizing about ever since he first drove up to our house.
CHAPTER 4
"Willie, get over here," was all he needed to say to make me jump out of my chair and hurry around the table towards him. Even before I came to a complete halt, he had a huge hand on my shoulder, pushing down on it as he said, "Down, boy. Let's give your wife a better look at what she's playin' with. An' maybe you can take a closer look of your own, while you're down there."
I was completely powerless to prevent my knees from folding, and before I even knew it was happening I was resting on them with my bulging eyes fixed on Cyb's hand as it massaged and caressed the part of Antwan that had become the center of both our worlds. And then I heard his deep voice speaking to me from far above my head, saying, "You know what to do, white boy. Take 'em off, an' be quick 'bout it."
My hands needed no more instructions than that, and a split-second later my fingers were fumbling with the brass button holding the waistband closed, and then jerking down the zipper. His jeans seemed to fall of their own accord when my wife released her grip on his bulge, but once they were below his knees, I didn't give them another thought, because his beautiful black cock with its huge, freckled head was throbbing just inches from my face and it was all I could do to convince myself that it was real, that it was flesh and blood, and that it was the stuff of all the fantasies I'd had for many years, all centered on the hundreds of times when I'd taken much-smaller ones in my mouth and licked and sucked them until they gave me what I wanted, what I needed, and what I craved.
And then Cyb was whispering, "Honey, put it in your mouth and suck it. Suck it just like Gwen's husband did last year before he fucked her. I want you to make him cum so when he fucks me it'll be fresh and he'll get me pregnant lots faster. Do it, god damn you! Suck him and make him cum in your mouth, faggot!"
I don't remember lifting the heavy shaft so the head was pointing at my face, but I must have because before I even knew it had happened, the head and as much of the shaft as I could take were filling my mouth. All the lessons I'd been given when I was just a kid came flooding back, and my tongue began to lick and my throat to suck and my head to bob back and forth so my lips were masturbating him.
I remember seeing one of my wife's hands caressing Antwan's huge balls, and hearing her pleading with him to, "Do it! Cum in his mouth so he can eat it! Empty your balls so you can fill me with a fresh load. Please, Antwan, feed him and do me next. I need it so bad!"
And right on cue I felt the monstrous head seemingly double in size and grow so hard that it felt like I was licking polished steel, and then I began moaning as his burning-hot cum filled my mouth so fast that I could barely swallow quickly enough to keep up with it. But I guess I did, because when he at last pulled it away from my lips, not even one drop dribbled down my chin.
And then I was being pulled to my feet by his strong arms, and when I was at last standing on my own he said, "Get her ready for me, Willie. If she ain't naked in 30 seconds I'll take my knife to your nuts. Move!"
She was already standing up from her chair by the time I walked around him, and as my fingers released the buttons on her blouse, she hissed, "Hurry, damn you! I'm going to die if I have to wait even one minute longer. I've been thinking about him ever since Gwen started bragging about how she was carrying his baby, and he'd probably never want to fuck me like he did her. Well, now I'm going to show her a thing or two; I'm going to have two babies, and she'll know who he loves best."
By the time she finished those words, I'd already peeled off her blouse and bra, and was working on her slippers and socks. They had barely had time to come to a stop after I'd tossed them across the room before I was unbuttoning her slacks and pulling them down her legs. And then there was nothing left to take off but her panties, and when I pulled them down below her crotch, I froze in place as my brain refused to process the information my eyes were sending to it.
Her crotch was entirely bare, rather than being covered with the bush of pubic hair she'd always had, and that told me, more than anything else ever could, that she'd been planning this moment longer than I knew, and she wanted her pussy to be on full display for her black lover.
Somehow my hands managed to take off the scrap of cloth that had been protecting her last bit of modesty, and as I looked up at her distended nipples and then down at the glistening moisture between her legs, I knew she was more turned on right then than she'd ever been with me. And I loved knowing that more than I could possibly say.
It took Antwan's rumbling order of, "Get your ass on the table, bitch. 'Twan's gonna knock you up but good today. After the fucking I'm gonna give you, ain't no other man ever gonna satisfy you. Get up there. Now!"
I watched her back up to the edge of the table, then place both hands on the top so she could lift her bottom where it needed to be. She wiggled back and forth as she adjusted her position so her pussy was barely past the edge, then quickly lowered her upper body until it was lying flat.
Antwan's order momentarily confused me, but as soon as my brain interpreted his words of, "Get around there and pull her arms back as far as they'll go, white boy. Get her stretched out so I can see her tits standing up like I like. Move!" I was pulling her arms back over her head, making her chest arch and her breasts push up.
I'd never, ever guessed that such a simple thing could make her nipples grow bigger than I'd ever seen them, but it did. They were so big and hard and beautiful that it took every bit of my willpower to not lean over and suck them one by one into my mouth.
It took his moving toward her crotch, then standing between her legs, to distract me from the vision her breasts were presenting, but distract me it did. I watched without breathing as he lifted his monster in one hand, amazed beyond words that the thing was still hard, even though I'd made him cum less than two minutes before.
He rubbed the head up and down my wife's slit, bringing gasp after sigh after gasp from her lips, and all the time laughing at the way his simple act was exciting her more than I'd ever thought possible. And then he paused for a split second to say, "Get ready, bitch. 'Twan's gonna give you the fuckin' of your life," and all I could do was whimper as he began pushing the head inside that part of her body that I had always thought of as my exclusive property.
My whimpers blended with her sighs, and then with her soft words of, "Oh, god! It'll never fit; he'll kill me with it; it's too big; I didn't know it'd be so big," and on and on with other words I can't remember. As for me, I could do nothing but stand there pulling my wife's arms and watching that black cock slowly but surely working its way inside the woman I loved more than my life itself.
I have no idea at all how long it was before I heard his explosive, "Shit!" followed by his fervent, "Get ready, bitch! I'se gonna put two babies in your cunt so's you can brag to all your friends about it!" And then, just a heartbeat later his crotch surged forward and locked in place as the final inch of his monster disappeared inside my wife's pussy.
I heard her scream of passion becoming higher and higher pitched, until at last it went beyond my range of hearing, and when I looked down at her face I saw her eyes were clamped shut and her expression was about half ecstasy and half pain. I'd never before heard her making that sort of noise, or seen her looking like that, but judging by what was being forced inside her body, I couldn't blame her for it, because right then I wanted nothing more than for it to be me stretched out over the table, feeling his huge cock invading that part of me that needed him more than I can say.
Both Antwan's and Cyb's bodies collapsed at the same time, and as she seemingly melted into the tabletop, he stood there leaning forward, supported by his outstretched arms as he gasped for air.
And then it was all over, and my wife was ordering me to suck her lover's cock clean, and I was on my knees before I even knew I had moved. I couldn't get all of it in my mouth, of course, but by sucking as much as I could and licking the rest of it, it was eventually clean enough that he told me to put his cutoffs back on him, and I did.
He left the house with a seventh bottle of beer in his hand, and a casual, "Well, that's all the time I got for fucking today. Lots and lots of dirt waiting out there for me. You folks behave yourself now, and I'll go finish the digging. I'll be back Monday to pour the concrete, so if you need another fucking, Cyb, just let me know and I'll try to work it into my schedule."
And then the door closed behind him, leaving me standing there watching him walking back to the fresh hole in our yard, and unable to move until my wife's voice broke through my semi-conscious funk.
CHAPTER 5
I heard her hoarse voice whisper, "Hold my legs up in the air."
Her order didn't make a bit of sense to me, but I knew better than to disobey it, so I struggled to stand, then took the single step needed to get me right in front of her exhausted body. Both her legs were dangling loosely over the edge of the table, so it didn't take any brainpower on my part to know I was supposed to grasp an ankle in each hand, then lift her feet high over my head. So that's what I did, and the result was to open her crotch and then all I could do was gaze awestruck at that part of my wife's body that had made me her slave even before we were married.
As I had lifted her legs and her crotch opened, I could see Antwan's cum sluggishly oozing from her gaping pussy, and that sight held so much of my attention that it took me a few seconds to understand what she meant when she whispered, "Gwen told me to do this part, because it's supposed to help his stuff find my womb and get me pregnant. I just can't wait before I have a baby bump to brag about, just like she's been bragging about hers for a long time."
Unable to think of any sort of intelligent response to that information, I continued to stand mute and stare at the sticky stuff as the flow reversed and began to run back into her pussy. Both of us struggled to breathe as the minutes ticked away, until at last she said, in her normal voice, "You want me to have his baby, don't you, Honey? Isn't that why you went and got him for me, and why you helped him every step of the way?"
Then it way my turn to try to speak through a constricted throat, and force out the words she wanted to hear.
"I want that more than anything else in the whole world. I've been fantasizing about other men . . . doing that to you . . . ever since our honeymoon. About all I could think about was Stephen (my best man at our wedding) asking me as we put on our tuxedos if I wanted him to go to with us, so he could show me the proper way to fuck a woman.
"Now that I've seen how wonderful it is to see another man . . . doing that . . . it's just . . . just more wonderful than I ever thought it could be."
It took a while for her to process my words, and then she chuckled and said, "Believe me, Honey, it's more wonderful for me than it ever could be in a million years for you. I never even guessed what it'd feel like to have something like Antwan's cock inside me, and to know that it was bare rather than wearing a rubber like I've always made you do, and that he was going to cum inside me and get me pregnant. Gwen's been telling me for months how wonderful it is to be fucked by a real cock, and now I know why she never could describe just how it'd feel."
Both of us remained silent for a long time, and I'm sure she was imagining right along with me what was happening inside her womb as it filled with Antwan's cum, and how it was finding her egg, and how all his little swimmers were racing each other to be the one to make a baby start growing inside her. She was the first to break the utter stillness in the kitchen, and her words almost made me black out as she described our future together.
"Honey, there's something else we need to talk about, because it's really, really important for both of us, and we need to decide what we're going to do."
She paused again, then seemingly changed the subject as she said, "I think his cum's done what it was supposed to do, so why don't you get down in front of me and put my legs over your shoulders. I don't want his cum to start running out of me after I get dressed, so why don't you suck it out of me and eat it. Will you do that for me, Honey? Please?"
I don't remember even dropping to the floor, but I guess I must have because I clearly remember her legs resting on my shoulders and his cum filling my mouth as I sucked and swallowed just as fast as I could. And the next thing I remember is her telling me about our future together.
CHAPTER 6
"Gwen told me what's going to happen to Doug (her husband) as soon as Antwan's baby is born. He's been telling her that he doesn't want Doug to be able to get her pregnant, so they're going to let him choose how they'll do that part, and it's pretty exciting to think about. What I want to do is tell you what your choices will be, and you can decide how you want to take care of things. I've been hoping for a long time that you'll want the same solution Doug chose, because it's just about the most-exciting thing ever to think about you doing, too.
"Anyway, she and Antwan gave Doug three choices: First, she can divorce him and he can go live somewhere else. Second, he can choose to be castrated, so his stuff won't be able to get her pregnant if he screws her." She paused then and took two huge gulps of air, then continued. "It's the third choice that he wants to have done to him, and when she told me what it involved, it's just about all I've been able to think about ever since."
She left me unable to breathe for what seemed like an eternity, then at last took pity on me and told me about the third option, the one her friend's husband had chosen for himself.
"What they're going to do as soon as the baby's old enough to travel is to fly down to a city in Mexico that has one of those sex-change clinics. She says they've already made an appointment to have his dick removed by one of the surgeons, and the reason they want to do it that way is because there's a big risk of him bleeding to death if he becomes a eunuch at home, and there's no one there who knows how to tie off the bleeders.
"I think that'd be the best way for us to do it, but it's up to you to make the choice. If all you want is a regular castration, then any veterinarian could do that, because it's apparently a pretty simple thing. I'm hoping you won't choose that way to make you safe around me, because from what I've read, when a man gets castrated, there's a good chance he'll lose interest in sex, and I'd hate for that to happen to you, because you're lots better at eating my pussy than any other man who's ever done that.
"So . . . do you want some time to think about it, Honey? I know it's a pretty big decision for you to make, so maybe you'd like more time to think about it before deciding."
Her lips had barely closed when I was hugging her close and giving her my answer.
"I don't need time to think about it. I want us to take a vacation in Mexico as soon as our baby can travel."
The End
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Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
