Marcia Goes Black

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; STORIES HAVE A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED; HERE BE DRAGONS]

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I had been happily married to my gorgeous wife Marcia for a number of years. Admittedly, our marriage did not include an exciting sex life, as I had been an unemployed student and then ex-student during those years. Marcia had had to put her music career on hold in order to get us by with teaching. My wife was a beautiful brunette, 5 foot 5, 110 pounds, with plump breasts, a trim waist, and great legs. Her ankles were remarkably slender (you could touch thumb and forefinger around them) and her feet were small, delicate, and smooth. Her best feature was not even visible from the front; her back was an incredible sculpture that epitomized what the female form should be.

We were both 28 at the time, but her healthy regimen made her sexier and more foxy year after year whereas I was only getting balder, paunchier, paler, and less potent. As my sexy wife rose to sex goddess and bedroom star athlete through her incredible training regimen, my confidence and performance seemed to reach rock bottom, as anyone could clearly see I was unworthy of her.

As my wife was that gorgeous and I wasn't pulling "my weight" at work (when I could find any) or in bed, I had the constant concern that she might be straying. Certainly, wherever she went, men would congregate around her. It was worrisome. I got a strange, almost desperate idea, to put a stop to these worries. I thought (naively as it turned out) that if I took control of her extra-marital life, I would at least know what was going on, if I couldn't fully control it. To that end, I intended to talk my wife into going out with someone of MY choosing, not hers.

At first, she didn't think I was serious; then, she thought I was just "feeling her out" to scope out her secret life (if any). But, I kept on her about it. Finally, she said, "OK, what is it you want me to do?"

I said, "just go out, that's all, just go out with someone I picked. I remember years ago that you saw a picture of Long Dong Silver and said ooh la la. I wondered thereafter if blacks with big cocks would make you happy."

She said, after getting over the shock, "you mean you would permit me to go out on a date...with a black dude...with the express permission to do, what, anything?"

I said, "Well, I hope it wouldn't get that far, but, yes, as long as you practiced safe sex, then anything." She didn't warn me that they might not practice safe sex, but to be honest, she did not think that far ahead either. The fact that she now was on the threshold of having some humongous black sausage shoved into her tender and sensitive fertile vagina(which she called "Valerie" by the way) was too much to take. Why, it was only a few months ago that we discussed having a baby.

She had said she'd wait for me to get a permanent job, something I promised but which never came through. Well, to "cut to the chase", she agreed and asked when they would start.

I said I'd look into it.

I had the hard task of finding a guy, a black guy, willing to service my gorgeous young, slim, fertile, wife. Tough task...sure...How long did it take? 30 minutes? I went to the outdoor basketball court across the highway in the small black township where the black college workers lived. I told them what was happening and they all (4) wanted in. I said no, people don't date, 4 on 1, but one of them would be cool. I picked the tallest, at 6 foot 4, on the theory that the tallest should be the, ahem, biggest.

I asked him if he had the duds to get fixed up for a night on the town; wife would pay (i.e. me). By the way, his name was Donald, call him Don.

He said sure.

The next Friday came. I watched Marcia get ready. She was frantically getting ready, which kind of ticked me off. When we would go out to a function or family gathering, she'd shower and brush her straight flowing hair...and that was it. She'd normally wear a frumpy thick wraparound skirt, knee length, clogs, and a loose fitting blouse. Ho-hum.

Well, tonight, she'd already been to the beauty parlor for hair dye (she was only 28, her 1st grey hair some 10 years away), manicure, pedicure (her lovely feet looked, well, lovely), etc. This thing was already costing me over $200. She'd laid out her clothes and went to take a long, long shower. I looked at the clothes, which also were new. The dress could be opened with one big wooden button in the front. It was low cut, showing cleavage (Marcia was a sexy 35C), and her perfect back, with a skirt only down to mid-thigh. I got really concerned about her choice of underwear. When she laid out her clothes, she always included her underwear and stockings or hose. Well, there it all was, and no bra, no panties, no hose. Her perfect breasts would be jiggling and bouncing against the thin, scratchy blouse (making her suckable nipples pucker and then pop sexily into erection), and her black fringed pussy would be visible if she sat in a booth or couch. Ouch...

Marcia came out of the shower, put the towel around her hair like a swami, and checked her figure, front, side, and back. She smiled, knowing she had a fantastic body, aided by her 5 times a week visit to the gym and daily 3 mile run. I might have become a TV snack junkie, but she was a bedroom athlete that frankly "outranked me" in the world of sex and health in general. It was a lucky fluke I ever got her, and my harebrained idea would make her realize that.

At 8 sharp, the door bell rang. We both freaked out. I wanted her to get the door, but she insisted on making "an entrance" so I agreed to go do it. I had to admit he looked fine, in a grey flannel shirt, wool slacks, and loafers. I sighed in relief that I had made the right choice, not realizing that that might've doomed me also.

I had him sit down and Marcia came out. You could hear fireworks going off, though we three were silent for a long pause. I introduced them and encouraged them to go have fun, giving Marcia a wad of cash. He put a big arm around her, and that was the 1st step.

She looked at me and said, "umm, what muscles...I think this is going to be a FUN evening."

They drove away; I told myself to not follow, not peek in on them. Yea, sure. I raced to the window and saw what car it was. I knew that there were only 4 nightclubs in town (a college town), so it would be easy to find them. I grabbed my keys and left after them in the dark. At the 2nd club I checked, I saw his car and, worse, the dude and my wife. They hadn't even had a drink or a chance to talk, and already he was pressing her against his car and making out! Her hands went to his chiseled, well-cut, heavily muscled arms and seemed to be gauging their strength and hardness as they made out. I bet she made the judgment that he was more of a "hunk" than I was or could ever be. They broke the kiss and went into the club, hand in hand. At the door, they broke the hand hold only to have him open the door and prod my wife in by a mild push on her pert behind.

The club was so dark and cold(it had air conditioning running at 71 degrees, the smell of liquor and smoke overwhelming you as you enter), I knew I could practically sit on their lap and not be seen. I bought a coke at the bar and slowly panned the place. Nothing.. nothing...oops...the tiny bistro table had the two of them, with cocktails, holding hands, laughing as they shouted conversation. Her lovely right foot had pulled out of the clogs. It was easy to follow even in the semi-darkness as she wore a sexy gold ankle bracelet above that sexy foot; it was massaging his leg. I thought back to those laid out clothes and it struck me...this outfit was designed to be quick on, quick off. No panties, stockings, just one button in front and kick off the clogs. Ready for action. What had I done? The whole point of this was to regain control over my marriage, even if it entailed extramarital affairs. Instead, I had introduced fooling around, and it was a runaway hit with my oversexed wife.

They got up for a slow-dance and it was disturbing to see; worse, with my eyes now used to the low lighting, I could see he'd gotten hard dancing with my sexy wife, and again, I chose well. Judging from his "package", I'd guess he packed some ten inches of wife-stealing manhood (turns out it was twelve inches) probably with a big swollen scrotum to match. All the more to...oh my God...when I set the date, I forgot a lot of things.

Since our sex life had petered out (sorry about that pun), I didn't keep track of Marcia's cycle or birth control. Well, as it turns out, she was not only fertile, but at peak fertility that very night. Worse, she'd gone off the pill, with its cost and side effects, and relied on abstinence or condoms if the need arose. The precaution that I DID impose successfully, now that I thought about it, was the 'morning after' pill. I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that she could take that even after a 'mishap', assuming that she wanted to! I went back to worrying...my wife, on a date, big black cock, swollen balls, heavy with black seed, white fertile womb, egg centered, waiting patiently for sperm, millions of sperm ready to launch, just looking for the go-ahead.

Marcia had been given $100, and the club only cost $22. Since he was (unknown to her) unemployed and his shared apartment no place to "get it on", and since Marcia had not discussed "after date "activities with me in re our place, they went to a cheap motel. The room was such I could not possibly get near it without being visible to everyone in that arm of the motel. So, I had no choice. That's right, I went to the room. They were stunned and a bit angry, but I reminded Marcia that a part of our "deal" was that I could watch anything going on. Thank God they didn't ask the more compelling question, like how I found them.

Anyway, given that agreement, Marcia said to let me in. She explained to her new black lover that "my husband's a bit of a pervert and gets off to weird things; don't let it bother you; we'll just make love and let him worry about it." I also pointed out that with her off the pill, she said she'd use condoms. She thanked me for reminding her (was there sarcasm in her comment?) and had me toss her purse. To my relief, she had condoms...she even got the biggest they make as well as my brand and size. It turned out, the ones like mine were intact(i.e. if she had to protect herself from a tiny cocked wimp like me or someone like me I foisted on her, she'd be safe) BUT the oversized ones were NOT. If a dude was so manly, so virile, so potent, as to require oversized rubbers, then her cunt would be a wide open highway, from labia to womb, from here to maternity.

To humiliate me, she said loudly, "well, Donald, let's see how my husband's condom size fits on you". Sure enough, he whipped out this breathtaking twelve inch babymaker. Marcia licked her lips, literally drooling. Her nipples, mere bumps before, erected like thumbs, pushing out the blouse, while down below she was getting jungle damp. She tried to put my little rubber on, but it looked like one of those funny old fashioned night caps. It proved my cock tiny compared to him. Marcia said, "Well, we now know who the superior male is in this room", going up to him and giving him the most passionate kiss anyone has ever received. I mean, it made me hot just being near it. Worse, his cock, waiting to be condom capped, twitched twice, and then erected fully. Whereas it was sticking out before, now it arose to point directly to the ceiling. Marcia peeled open (later I found out she pretended to peel it; it was resealable) the big condom package (which she had taken a fork to and was perforated totally) and rolled it on his cock. She then deep-throated it to get it to seat smoothly. Marcia grabbed his plastic covered mammoth love tool and walked him to the bed; up on tiptoes, she demurely kissed him, caressed his rippling arms, looked sarcastically at me, and told him that she loved him! She never wanted to stop loving him. She got on the bed--lifting her knees, raising her arms in encouragement. He couldn't believe his luck, flexed his muscles to show her who the boss was (in the room), and mounted her. But he didn't go in, and I was relieved and surprised.

He whispered to her.

She laughed, saying "OK". He rolled off her and she said, "Oh, tiny, there might be something for you to do instead of pulling your pud while your legally wed wife gets serviced by a REAL man for a change. Since this is the start of a new relationship for the three of us, I'd like you to do 'the honors' and put his magnificent tool into your wife's unprotected and very fertile vagina."

I said, "sure; thank God that 40 cent condom makes all of this academic since you will be safe." I went up and grabbed his steel hard babymaker, rubbing it against the lips of her pussy which made her moan in pleasure. That was not my goal, as I was just wiping off the pre-cum which I mistook for lubricant. So my clumsy attempt to clean off the cock for entry by mistake made my super turned on wife all the more excited as that cock sent jolts of excitement thru her via her clitoris. All of this just before I even put the uncut mammoth member at the entrance. He entered her with one powerful thrust, which made her cringe for a moment.

He apologized for hurting her with his size, which made her almost cry, he being considerate and all. They kissed...passionately. Within 3 minutes, my small demure wife had taken in all of his footlong cock. Now their passion made them fuck together like a well designed race car engine. Higher and higher the revs, with a brief pause six (6) times for Marcia to cry out in orgasm, something I never elicited once in all our years. The rhythmic slap slap slap of their toned, fit bodies must have been music to their ears. To mine, as the former 'owner' of one of those bedroom athletes, it was horror indeed.

Finally, he looked down at her and said he was going to cum, should he pull out.

She said he'd better not and pulled him down for an intimate lovers' kiss. Then, talk about painful(for me at least), they came together, a simultaneous orgasm(also something that she and I never achieved) that lasted what seemed like 5 minutes but actually was less than 1 minute.

During his orgasm, he bent down to her right ear and whispered that there was something wrong with the rubber.

She said to forget it. He kept shooting, and all dozen of his long, thick powerful jets of potent black African seed were transferred directly from his huge reservoir of sperm in his balls to my wife's unprotected and incredibly fertile vagina, ending up in her womb. Everything in there was dilated and ready to absorb sperm or lead it on the right pathway to fertilization and the glory of life. Only a miracle could stop conception now; she was as good as pregnant.

He pulled out and smiled looking at the rubber, which was as watertight as a fisherman's net, dripping white goo all over the head of that cock. But, they blew their cover story, as he bent down and asked her (loud enough for me to hear) if she got pregnant by him, would she give birth? She looked sourly at me (like the peeping tom I was, groping in my pants while she performed like some porn star), then told him 'yes' (surprising herself; she had always held the "a" option as the ultimate safety for this night; but now, since he was such a gentleman as well as a super-man, she thought, the hell with it...) It was at that point that I thought of something. With demonic frenzy, I tore thru her purse, finding that pink pill holder. I opened it, relieved to see the 'morning after' pill, a big capsule, sitting there. I proffered that pill to my still legally married wife.

I said, "Marcia, there are millions upon millions of his vile, disgusting African seeds inside you now, threatening to get you pregnant. With this pill, you can protect yourself against that infection and avoid having an unwanted dark child. Take it, it is the only way to protect our marriage and guard the sanctity of your sacred white womb!"

Donald leaped up and grabbed me by the neck. He asked Marcia, "What should I do with this jive ass punk? Oh, baby, please say 'do him'...he just dissed you, me, and our black brothers and sisters.

Marcia, feeling like the queen she now was in this situation, considered taking that pill and returning to 'tiny town' or hanging with her new bro. She made the right call, "First, Donald, dispose of that miracle pill properly: have whitey take it. Then, if you REALLY TRULY want to, 'fuck him up'!"

I thought,"Oops! That wasn't exactly my darling wife, begging to come back home! He's not going to try and..." My thoughts were cut off as he roughly held open my puny jaws with one powerful hand and forced that pill inside with the other. He held my nose, forcing me to swallow. As my neck showed the pill going down, Marcia seemed to get off to that.

Then, I guess I should have been ready for this. After my 'ill-chosen comments', that robust, hugely muscled six foot four inch black stud pounded me into the ground, with Marcia as his cheerleader, begging him to hit me again, and again, her voice pleading in a sexy voice right out of a 900 number. When Donald said he better not hit me again, I was too close to checking out, he received orders.

Marcia said, "Please hit him, one last time...for me? If you do, I swear I will fuck you till I'm black bred. When you get me pregnant, I will carry that strong, handsome black baby to term, then happily give birth. Best of all, we don't have to report him missing, then use his marital health coverage, and THEN report him missing for life insurance. But all of this depends on you giving him one last titanic sock, right on his ugly pale kisser. He deserves it after what he said...do it, finish him!"

Oh, if you are wondering, he did give me that final blow, but I somehow survived with just a concussion. If I had gone to the hospital to report it, they would have asked some pretty embarrassing questions, so I actually tried to sleep it off and never pressed charges.

At that point, she did come straight home, but she carried his seed intact in her fertile cunt, and she forgot (sic) to clean out when she got home. She propped herself up on a pillow when she went to bed. That really pissed me off, as I had made this date to limit my wife's insatiable appetite for men and sex. Now, she had a cuntful of potent baby-making seed, black seed, and she was helping it put her in the family way. My wife had orchestrated my getting roughed up, REALLY roughed up, and the only effect on her was making her get sopping wet.

I asked sheepishly if she was going to see him again.

She said no, to my great relief. At this point, I added it all up; I had spent $200 and had let my wife go wild. Now she was back, no baby, and I naively thought that all was "cool" again. Of course, that was far from the real case; Marcia was now black curious before she later became black cocks only. As for babies, her unprotected vagina had been delivered a copious spend into her fertile depths, his potent seed quickly finding her sticky egg. His virile seed had five (count them 5) wigglers attached to her wondrous ovum before it alighted on her inner wall making her officially pregnant.

So, what was the tally from my brilliant idea NOW? How about hospital fees, doctor fees, and the absolute worst cost: humiliation. The nurse brought in the babies, all five of them, and upon seeing us, had the entire staff of the hospital visit on some pretense or other, laughing loudly in the hall. Clearly, I was a wimp and a cuckold, some lucky black dude having the honor of servicing my too hot-for-me wife. To make it much worse, a local television station was doing an expose' on the hospital, and it traced parents of the babies in the newborn viewing window, interviewing them. So, I had to speak to the entire viewing audience about my (?) babies and how they were handled by the hospital.