As I got into the house, all I could think about was going to the computer—straight to Omar's website—and watch what I pictured that night being for me: an extramarital, interracial insemination. I was so wet and out of control, I expected to be able to get three fingers inside.
Just as I was getting there, Mike steered me toward the bedroom, wordlessly reaching around to unfasten my shorts and slide them down. He paused when he felt the river running out of me, and by the time we got to the bed, we were both naked and his tongue was deep inside me as I settled back, spreading wide for this wildman. My head was swirling for so many reasons, I couldn't concentrate on anything but controlling my screaming as I released almost immediately, and then again before getting under some sort of control.
As eagerly as I anticipated an event of some kind with Omar, eventually, my husband was still the man of my dreams. He made me cum super hard, gave me multiples routinely, and always put his all into it. He wasn't even undersized at all. At times I had trouble taking him all. And we truly loved each other, which always made it so intimate for both of us. But this time I was so loose from anticipation combined with taking my black dildo inside me several times a day, that while he tried as hard as ever, it had the appearance in my agitated state of being smaller than usual.
And I can't say I was only thinking of Omar, because I sensed my husbands presence with me with all my being. It always felt that way with him, but flashes of that wicked, knowing smile of white teeth beaming out of Omar's chuckling black, bald head kept looming right in front of my face, teasing, reminding me what could be inside me tomorrow night.
When I was finally starting to settle down from a continuous stream of uncontrolled orgasmic seizure, almost getting into a casual rhythm, Mike started to lose control, at just the right time as always. I've always loved feeling him cum inside me, so forceful and deep, spurting up into my depths and spraying what seemed like a lot in me, which always made me hot enough to cum one last time. But this time, he kind of held in me and seemed to strain for nothing.
Because I had been hammering myself with Jamal and daydreaming about Omar's cock for so long, and the fact that today's conversations had made me the most excited I had ever been, the wettest for sure, I could barely feel anything, and I remembered a remark I had read several times: Interracial cuckold couples who still had sex usually had mostly 69, because a woman who gets black cock regularly is quite loose, and often filled with cum that cuckolds find yummy, licking her is the best way to get him hot, unless he's just a wimp type cuckold, sub, and then that's all he allowed. Either way, it occurred to me that Mike had maybe already had my pussy for the last meaningful time, that he likely wouldn't cum inside me anymore, or not very much. I later realized that he must have been jacking himself off five or more times a day (I later found out up to 8 times in a day since Omar had begun to flirt with me) But by then I was thinking of other things.
So many thoughts were roaring through my head like runaway trains. I thought about everything from the accuracy of the ovulation testers Omar used on his site, whether they were even real, if my calculations were correct and I would be at absolute peak fertility with my new black paramour shooting his sperm inside my uterus. I thought about how the baby would affect our friendships, Mike's reputation, our relationship. I wondered for the first time about the future; would Omar stay living in the apartment, would I keep seeing him, would he and Mike get along afterwards, would it all get complicated? Would notoriety from the website cause big problems around the neighborhood? I ran through the timing to figure out my rough due-date, I even started to go through appropriate baby names. The only thing I didn't dare think about directly was whether I could actually go through with allowing a man besides my husband, a black man, a stranger basically, to have intercourse with me, to inseminate me—make a beautiful living baby inside me, to make me a black-cock-breeding-slutwife amateur porn slut. Wearing my brave (horny) face I convinced myself that was a given, though a small voice inside me said, "We'll see..."
When we finished, I basically kissed Mike on the cheek and rolled over back to sleep. I awoke at nearly noon, taking care of a few household chores before spending the rest of the day preening and making myself as desirable as I possibly could.
My head still swirled with details and small worries, but I felt a bit better based not only on my complete surrender to feeling aroused by Omar, but also on how easily I gave myself permission to make myself over, to try my hardest to look good for a new man, something I hadn't done since I met Mike. I had a few pangs of guilt when I realized I might be tricking myself by not addressing the nay-saying voice inside me. That maybe it knew something I didn't, like that I didn't have the nerve to go through with this insanity. What it came down to was the knowledge that I had found an inarguable excuse for each of my concerns. Most of them were flimsy, some even silly, but I could always plead later that I was thinking clearly and those excuses seemed logical at the time. Finally, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Mike was convinced, I was just beating myself up. The one nagging thought I had was that when I saw Omar naked, I would not be able to stop myself from mounting him. There was no way around this. If it got that far, I would have a baby. That seemed to take control from my hands, and I stopped worrying and started to drift into an orgasmic gluttony.
I stared at video after video of married white women falling prey to Omar's charms, his boundless sexuality, his immense cock, that incredible staying power, and all that sperm, never wasted. I watched through glassy, dazed eyes as one woman after another spread for him and allowed him to make a baby inside them. This washed all doubt away as I realized the sheer quantity of white women impregnated by this one black stud was enough that I could fit in easily, yet he provided links to many other 'breeding brothers.' Each of them had to be pumping out many pregnant white wives. There was even a link to apply to take part in a breeding club, which was for white women to go become black pregnant in a group environment. As I accepted everything I drifted into semi-conscious feverish ecstasy.
Finally Mike came in from all his yard work and I was forced to rebuild some composure. I hung out and talked to Mike about a few mundane things, then we had some dinner and he went to do some work on the computer. It was five-thirty; I couldn't wait any longer. For some reason I felt it important to call before going over, and as soon as he answered I understood why: my husband could hear. I played the high school girl to the hilt, obviously flirting, using every double-entendre I could slip in. Although I was whispering, pretending to be trying to keep quiet, I made sure hubby heard me ask Omar what I should wear. I then moaned sensuously and pretended to be panting, trying to control my breathing. I made sure Mike heard me tell Omar he was, "such a bad boy. I'm married, you know. Well, okay. Just for you. I don't know, maybe you should wear one too and I'll see just how special. But I'd better wear a tampon or something, or I might leave a stain. (Pause.)(Gasp!) Omar you are so bad... That's why you're always washing your sheets. Hmmm, I bet we will. Okay, no panties, but I'll leave a trail. Would you really? Oh, Omar... I guess you'll just have to taste for yourself, besides, you're the one who's sweet... (Laughing) Okay, sweet and salty. No, I'm sure we won't waste any... Hmmm... I can't wait..."
In a few minutes, after I had changed into a bath robe and nothing else, I poked my head into the office and told Mike I was going to visit Omar. He sat stunned staring at me, then asked what I was wearing. I told him I was going to have a shower there to test the water pressure, as Omar had asked me why it faded so quickly during a shower (not completely untrue). Then, grinning at him, I saw a grin spread across his face as I turned to go to internet baby-making destiny.
When I arrived on shaky legs, the door was open, and as I stepped in he closed and locked it behind me. As I turned to him, I saw he wore a robe also, and his giant cock hung out in front of him, sort of semi-hard. I gasped and he grabbed me, holding me as he kissed me deeply, feverishly, like the master was losing control of himself. I felt myself soften and melt into him, giving myself over completely this time, and I felt his cock harden and jump upwards a bit, pressing against the underside of my heavy boobs. But he broke the kiss and smiled at me, leading the way upstairs. As soon as I saw that smile in the state I was in, I felt my warm moisture running down my leg. I had never been so out-of-control. This was way beyond first-date fucking, it was extramarital first-date interracial impregnation. Before Omar moved in, I had never even imagined such a thing, but now it seemed the most natural thing in the world, like going to a spa.
He led me directly to the bathroom, and explained to me how the ovulation tester worked, grinning uncontrollably, as was I. I had never seem him act this way with any of the other women, familiar and playfully flirty, jovial and teasing. I of course knew how the tester worked, having gotten off watching all those other women do it on his website. He acted as though he knew this, playfully checking to make sure I understood. As I began to notice all the cameras in his bathroom, it occurred to me for the first time that I was on his website, that it was too late, it was official: I was a slut.
When it was time for me to pee on the sensor area of the tester, rather than hand it to me as he did with the other women, he held it under me, explaining that it would be more accurate if he held it in the perfect spot, telling me that he was more concerned about this result than any of the other women who had been to him for 'treatment.' I blushed, and let a small stream of pee come out onto the stick. He set the tester on the edge of the sink, wiping me very gently and kissing me, another thing he seldom did with the other women. When enough time had passed, he read the result and showed the tester to the camera. "A viable female!"