Authors note:
This series explores Sara and Ryan's adventures into the interracial cuckold life from Ryan's perspective. There is special focus on a non-typical bull and cuckold relationship and the events and decisions outside of the bedroom, thus you short on time may want to look elsewhere.
INTRO
Life doesn't always go as planned
I remember meeting Sara back in junior year of college at the University of Iowa. She sat quietly in the back of biology lectures, her brilliant pale skin almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Her long, curly brunette hair framed her face in a way that made her look like she belonged in a painting--beautiful but never trying to be. She wasn't one for big crowds or bold conversations, and I could see how hard it was for her to open up to new people. But something about her quiet, thoughtful presence drew me in. Slowly, over time, I got to know the person behind that shy exterior, and it was like uncovering a treasure--brilliant, kind, and full of depth.
Now, at 38, Sara's still that same brilliant, pale woman with the soft curls and the quiet nature. Her skin, almost porcelain, stands out against the typical Virginia sunshine. Dark doe eyes, gorgeous protruding pink nipples. A cup size that went from a B to a C after our second. The idea of holding them, feeling their healthy weight, filled my mind during extended conference calls. Sara's strict gluten-free diet and hardcore Pilates keep her body slender and tighter than in her 20s. Even after two kids, Sara's pussy was incredible, able to take a 8-inch dildo off Amazon when we intended for the 6-inch narrow one. Even immediately afterward able to squeeze my cock almost painfully tight. Her larger hips, a result of two children finished her picture-esque family mom body. And while it's a beauty that catches the eye, she's never quite comfortable with it. She's a science teacher at the local high school in Manassas, and though her students adore her, she still struggles to make friends in the faculty lounge. It's hard for her to break out of her shell, even in a city as large as Manassas.
Introducing myself, my name is Ryan. I'm 39, 6'1", a little over 200 pounds, a bog-standard t-inch white guy cock that has "issues" from time to time. I work as an engineer at a defense contractor in Washington, DC. It's the kind of job that demands a lot of time and focus. Perhaps the worst is 3 hours commuting every day in gridlock. If the pay wasn't so damn good, we would be gone tomorrow.
Jack, who's 5, is a mini-me in terms of energy, and looks always running around and getting into trouble. Lily, 3, is a mix of both of us. Quiet and reserved even for her age.
I watch Sara with Jack, and a part of me can't help but be mesmerized. He's five now, but I still see him as that tiny infant she cradled in her arms, his little body so small, so perfect. She's always been so natural with him, the way she holds him, the way she looks at him. It's as if everything about her is meant to nurture, to protect. Her features--her pale skin, the gentle curve of her face, the soft fullness of her lips--have always struck me, but now, as she holds Jack close, I can't help but notice how they seem to glow with a kind of warmth, a fertility that I hadn't fully understood before. It's like everything about her speaks to motherhood, to life.
We've come a long way, Sara and I. Early on, birth control was a challenge for her. The pills made her feel terrible, and she was always so nervous about the idea of an IUD. It felt like a constant source of stress in our marriage, and I hated seeing her that way. It took time, but eventually, she convinced me to try cycle tracking. For nearly ten years, it worked. It felt right for us, a natural rhythm, no pills or devices to worry about. But then, after a few close calls, Jack arrived unexpectedly but happily, and we knew things were going to change.
After Jack was born, I thought we might try for a larger family. I'd always dreamed of having a few more kids--maybe four or more, a big, chaotic household. But Sara, always more practical, said she was happy with one more. So, we agreed that after Jack, we'd have just one more child. I was late to the office more times then I should have gotten away with. Sitting at the table, with a coffee watching Sara feeding Jack on the couch. Glimpses of her engorged breasts so full to almost be painful. Her once very hour shaped figure turning into a fertile pear from motherhood. Quietly we would stare at each other until Jack was ready for his first nap of the day. Waiting for Sara to sneak back down from the second floor of our home into our master bedroom in the basement felt like an eternity every day. Her fertile body soon after brought our daughter Lily into the world.
But as much as I wanted more, Sara knew she was done. After Lily, she was certain. And so, I made the decision that, after everything we'd been through, I would get a vasectomy.
At the time, it made sense. It would take the pressure off Sara, end the cycle of birth control struggles. But now, watching her with Jack, something shifts inside me. There's a softness in her face, a beauty I hadn't fully appreciated until now. Her gentle, nurturing way with him--it's as if everything about her radiates this deep, unspoken connection to motherhood. And I wonder if, in making that choice, I've lost something. Not just the possibility of another child, but that sense of spontaneity we used to have together, the freedom we once shared.
It's not just about wanting more children anymore; it's about the intimacy we've lost in the process. There's no going back from the decision I made, and sometimes I wonder if it was the right choice for both of us. I miss that ease, that closeness we had before, and I can't help but regret that I didn't fully understand how much I was giving up.
I see it in Sara, too. She's always been self-conscious, and now I sense her worrying that I don't find her attractive anymore. I do, deeply. I still love her beautiful pale skin, her soft hair, and her quiet strength, but I can't seem to show her. I want to reassure her, but the words don't come. She deserves better than this--better than me retreating into my own regrets.
Friday, September 7, 2018 1830L
As our family tradition, Friday night was always spaghetti night. It was one of those things that had become a little ritual--something simple, yet sacred, amidst the chaos of the week. But with a 5- and 3-year-old, it was always an unholy mess. Sauce on the walls, noodles everywhere, and more spilled than eaten. I didn't mind, though. It was part of the charm of the evening.
Sara hustled through the front door, breathless as always. "I am so sorry, babe," she said, looking genuinely apologetic.
"Don't worry about it, babe," I said with a half-smile, stirring the sauce into the spaghetti. "How did the parent conference go?"
She took a moment to catch her breath, then spoke with a little more focus. "I met with Caleb's mom, Ava. We went over the options to help Caleb get his SAT scores up for that Scholar Athlete grant I mentioned yesterday."
I nodded, trying to keep my mind in the conversation, but I couldn't help noticing how quickly her attention shifted. Jack was bouncing around the kitchen, overstimulated from a long week of school, his energy like a ball of fire. Lily, on the other hand, was in full meltdown mode--crying in a way that made my heart ache.
Sara's face softened as she moved towards Lily, gently lifting her out of her chair. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?" she murmured, running her hand over Lily's tangled hair.
Later after ensuring that Jack and Lily were fast asleep upstairs, Sara entered the bedroom. Then with hunger in her eyes removed her pajama top and bottom. Revealing a Black lace bra and panties. She crawled up the bed on all fours, never breaking eye contact as she pulled down my bottoms. My cock lay limb in her mouth as she tried desperately to coax life from my cock with her tongue. "I'm sorry babe, it's not you." Desperately I stated. Pain is already in her face. "Let me get you off, I'll do that thing you like," I said attempting to lower the blow. "Ok," the nervous response.
By an accidental browser history discovery by me. I quickly recognized familiar web pages. One forum, dedicated to interracial cuckolds I knew by heart. There was a video "BBC worship by HOTWIFE" in which I conversed with another user in the comment section. Now seeing the user name on my wife's laptop. It was a shocker when I introduced myself by my user name to my wife. Now from time to time, I tease Sara with her BBC worship fantasy. Picking up the large dildo between my legs. Letting my wife lick it top to bottom. Kissing the silicon mushroom again and again, While desperately working her pussy with her free hand.
"You want to make this big cock cum?" I said deeply to her.
Her rapid nods as she approaches climax.
"You want this black cum?" The words almost feeling dirty in my mouth Then suddenly Sara bucked her hips as an orgasm ripped through her body.
Later
As I turned off the lamp I could still see a hurt look on Sara's face. As we both tucked in, spooning one another. I hated this, I hated all this. Sara deserved more than my broken-down cock. Closing my eyes tightly, afraid of the consequences I spoke softly into Sara's ear.
"What if we played a bull?"
Immediately Sara's heart rate quickened.
"I know you want that black cum so bad".
Sara began shivering against me, her mouth attempting to suppress moans as she worked her clit. She began to climax like a wild animal. Lasting nearly a minute her body was exhausted. Laying out the plan to open my wife to another man felt surreal. Soon my wife had her laptop out. Watching Sara hungrily tear through the countless black men's profiles. Sara and I could not bring ourselves to message anyone that night.
Tuesday, September 17, 2018 1300L
