Disclaimer: This story deals with interracial sex, cuckolding, dominance/submission, body modification, sexual servitude, impregnation, and more. Please do not continue if any of these subjects offend you. This is a work of fiction, meant to be enjoyed. Please click back if this does not suit your style. I am not Jane Austen. It is just another black stud and white wife story. They are free, so don't expect a literary masterpiece. All negative comments will be deleted.
ALSO: Please be advised that not much actual sex happens. This story is mostly build up. (Erotic, I hope!)
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I nearly couldn't believe it. The day I had dreamed about for the past three years had finally arrived. After three years of watching interracial porn, role-playing, using my big black dildo "Marcus" (alone and with my husband, Sam)-- and daydreaming aloud with Sam about how hot it would be, Sam was finally going to hand me over to be blacked.
Yes, that's right. Me, Eden, a cute white wife just twenty-six years old, never pregnant yet, never before blacked--never even laid with a dick over seven inches before ever. I was finally going to get blacked by a massive eleven-inch BBC.
I'm a typical cute, nerdy-looking blonde with glasses, I guess. I have a thin physique, but with just the right curves. I have a petite butt, but it suits my frame and looks sexy both clothed and naked. My hips curve out nicely from my small waist. My small shoulders and thin limbs make me look very feminine. I'm of average height with b-cup breasts that are perky and look great on me, my boyfriends and husband have said. My face is "adorable," I'm told, with bright blue eyes and cute lips and nose.
I'm one of those quiet girls who's secretly very horny. Ever since age eighteen, I've always made sure to have a boyfriend, and then married to Sam. It wasn't hard for me to go from one guy almost immediately to the next because of my large social circle, good looks, and nice disposition. I think it helped that I seemed approachable but not slutty. Someone attractive always was hoping to date me, luckily for me. I probably had a dozen boyfriends from 18 to 22, when I met my husband, and I definitely enjoyed making love with all of them. The whole time, I probably had just two or three that were "hookups"--not many.
I'll admit to enjoying the larger cocks more. Probably my best lover ever so far was this hispanic guy, Enrique. Enrique had a thick seven-incher and really knew how to use it. Unfortunately we didn't have enough to talk about, so we drifted apart after a few hot months of fucking.
I was attracted to black guys, but I was intimidated by them, too. I was nervous about dating one or even hooking up. My family was admittedly an obstacle. My parents weren't racist, but I knew they thought it was tough to live an interracial lifestyle in the United States. It was hard to argue with their fact-based view when I was continuing to look to them to fund college and then graduate school--especially as I was mostly a serial monogamist and not into hookup culture.
Possibilities shifted when I was free from my parents' funding and as I discovered that my husband shared my interest in interracial sex. Conveniently, Sam had a voyeuristic perspective, to boot!
After Sam admitted one night, drunk, that he thought it would be hot if I hooked up with a black guy, I gradually led us through the various steps of more and more interracial sexual habits. We began with role-playing and porn, eventually added black dildos, and now--at long last--the idea of making our mutual fantasy come to life.
It was up to me to lead. Sam doesn't have a leadership bone in his body, unfortunately. He faked being a leader for a while, during our courtship. I still wonder if his pals were coaching him!
Sam was understandably nervous that our relationship could be harmed by my getting blacked. I finally convinced him that we were both so turned on by the fantasy, that we simply had to take the chance and hope for the best.
Sam agreed to my suggestion that I should go to online chat rooms to look for a lover that appealed to me.
I decided to look for someone with an eleven-inch cock because it would be a little bigger than my largest dildo, "Marcus," which was ten inches. Ten inches was now comfortable. I wanted my first real-life black cock to test and stretch me!
I also wanted to find someone whose company I would enjoy, so that I might have an enduring affair--although I didn't tell that part to Sam!
It took me a few months and filtering through a hundred or more options that didn't seem enticing enough. I so badly wanted my very first BBC experience to be special--to be exactly right.
FInally, I found Robert. Robert had an extremely appealing mix of a dominant personality, high intelligence, a good sense of humor, an excellent physique--and of course his gorgeous eleven-inch cock.
Robert's face was awkward looking--with his jaw crooked and his nose broken one too many times. But his awkward looks only made me feel more slutty and turned on. That I was able to be so excited to fuck a studly but odd-looking black bull--that told me I was really becoming a black cock slut!
Robert also lived in our same metro area, only about twenty minutes drive.
After just a few days, online chatting with Robert progressed to talking on the phone. We even did some video calls. He insisted on seeing me naked. He was pleased. He told me "thin gorgeous little white sluts" like me are his favorites!
I asked him to get naked likewise. He assented, and I was able to confirm that he'd been truthful with his photos. His cock in particular was every bit the gorgeous, giant BBC he'd sent me pictures of earlier. He got it hard for me so I could be sure. Golly, that was a turn on! I had to use my dildo "Marcus" for two orgasms before I could relax enough to sleep that night!
Robert made me promise that we would only fuck bareback. He said that even though he "fancied" me, he had dozens of hot white wives to choose from, and that he would only fuck me if I were willing to be exclusively bareback. He sent me recent medical test records, and demanded the same from me. I was a little insulted but had to admit that turnabout is fair play.
My husband, Sam, also agreed to me going out on a date with Robert to be bareback fucked. Not only that, Sam agreed that I could keep having an affair with Robert for however long we both might wish--that was another agreement that both Robert and I thought was important.
It makes my panties wet just to think about it--even now, years later, when I at last decided to write it all down.
Robert insisted on talking with Sam. Robert only wanted to fuck a white wife whose husband was "totally supportive, completely on board," he said. He didn't want any single women as they could easily become too demanding.
Also, it was hotter, Robert said, to fuck previously loyal white wives.
Still, Robert didn't want any trouble with angry husbands, even if they might be smaller than him, easy to beat up. "It can be considered assault with a 'deadly weapon' if I beat up a little white guy--even with just my fists," Robert spelled out for me.
Robert insisted on speaking to Sam to get the "all clear." I could only overhear Sam's end of the conversation. "Yes, Robert. Yes you may record our call. Go ahead... Yes, those rules work for me, Sam Partridge. I promise that you, Robert Crow, have my blessing to maintain a sexual relationship with my wife, Eden, as long as you both might like, even if it's indefinitely long. Even if it never ends. Yes, I understand how badly she needs to be black-fucked. I want the love-of-my-life to be happy and satisfied... Yes, Robert, thank you in advance..."
It was another week from that phone conversation until Robert had time to go on our first date together. We agreed that it would be sexiest if we went on a proper date, even though we both intended that we would end up fucking.
That whole week, Sam was pretty much a moody mess. Sometimes he was excited for me and for us, about the new direction for our sex life. Other times, he was scared he might lose me.
I probably didn't help things.
When Sam was in a good mood about my upcoming date, I played things up. I would say things like: "Golly, do you think my pussy will ever be the same after Robert's BBC is in it all night? I mean, it's stretched now--yes--but Robert is even bigger. Do you think I'll get even more stretched?" Or, "I bet this is the start of a really hot and long-lived affair for me, Sam... Aren't you excited for me?" Or, "Can you imagine how womanly and fulfilled I'm going to feel with Robert's thick eleven-inches all up inside me?" Or, "Golly, I bet I'll come several times in an evening with Robert even though I've only come once in an evening with you--don't you think?"
I wouldn't fuck Sam this week when he was horny, either. I wouldn't even fuck him once. I told him I wanted my pussy to get nice and rested for Robert. Sam would have to settle for a hand job most nights. One night, I only let him beat off while I talked to him about how hot it was going to be for me to finally get blacked--"blacked, at last, like I deserve." I knew it was titillating for Sam, but it definitely also stoked his anxiety.
