Cuckold to the Max

Some lucky ladies were blessed with a toned, gold-standard booty fixed atop a pair of mile long, sculpted legs that became pure poetry when set into motion. Brittany, my wife of just under five years, was one of those precious few women, which made me incredibly blessed as well. Her amazing ass sung sweet music as it swayed across the parking lot of our apartment complex headed for our car. I had no intentions of catching up, choosing instead to lag a few paces behind where I could shamelessly ogle how her form-fitting little black dress, which was cut halfway up her thighs, perfectly accentuated her killer butt. I had selected that LBD. It had cost quite a chunk of change. Along with the four-inch, strappy black heels she wore. Together on her though, they became priceless.

"Damn, Britt," I said. "You are a slice of Heaven on Earth." At 26 and 5'4", maybe 108 pounds when soaken wet, I swear Heaven itself would have been insanely jealous of my girl.

Her measured stride slowed. Then stopped, a few spaces away from our Chevy.

I slid up behind her. Dropped my hand to cup her left ass cheek. "What's up, babe?"

She wouldn't look at me. "This is really it. You know? Everything changes from here. All of it." Her lower lip curled under her top teeth and she bit down.

My hand played with the sheer fabric that flimsily covered her butt. Even though it was early Friday evening on a toasty spring day, she trembled at my touch as if a cold breeze had licked her skin.

"You want to call Trey?" I asked. "Tell him no go. We changed our minds. Say the word and I'll blow this whole thing off in a heartbeat." I wanted to be supportive of her. Not pushy or selfish. Try as I might though, there was no masking the note of disappointment in my anxious voice. Which she heard.

"What do you want?" she asked me back as she stared blankly ahead. "I mean, no kidding, for real. It doesn't get any more serious than this. So what are you honestly looking for regarding the two of us? You need to decide, Doug."

I already had. Months ago.

My free hand felt in my pocket for the key fob. I pressed the button. The car chirped as it unlocked.

I went around the passenger side and opened the door for her. She stood where I'd left her, her lips moving silently. Disbelief flickered momentarily on her face. Apparently she'd expected a different reaction from me or perhaps hoped as much for one. Then, she gave the slightest of head shakes before she came around and eased her luscious ass onto the seat.

Seconds later I joined her behind the wheel. Started the car. Backed us out. As I put it in drive, her hand shot over and snatched my wrist.

"After this weekend, no more pretending or hiding." Her voice strained with urgency. "The truth will be clear to everyone... neighbors, friends, our families. Eventually they will all know. Are you absolutely certain that's what you want? Because it can't be undone, Doug. There will be no going back to what we had before. Ever."

She was so right about that. No take-backs for what would transpire this weekend. Which only stoked the fire smouldering in my gut.

I leaned across and kissed her delicate lips. "I love you so much, Britt. I want you to have this. More than anything."

"Promise you'll love me afterwards?" Her small voice practically begged.

I kissed her again. "Even more," I said. "Guaranteed."

With that and a protracted sigh, she sat back in the seat. I drove out of our complex across town headed towards Trey's townhouse. In 30 minutes I'd be abandoning my loving bride with the man who intended to fuck her senseless over the course of the weekend. And on Sunday night when I picked her up again, with any luck, she would be carrying Trey's baby.

Trey was Britt's black lover of the prior ten months. She and I, of course, were white as milk. Hence the reason for her nervousness regarding the turn of events lying ahead.

No undo. No reset. Painfully obvious to everybody... about nine months from now.

Damn. This really was it.

It's funny. Thinking back to when Britt and I were dating, I was the one reluctant to commit to having kids. She wasn't opposed to the notion. Didn't rule it out. But certainly she wasn't eager either. So, like many to-be-wed couples, we agreed to keep the option and our minds open to the thought. Years later, it's astounding I'm the one all too ready and eager to see her bred.

For that, I blame a part of me I had no clue about. I don't mean my cock, though it was certainly an accomplice to the transgression. Not my balls either, which enjoyed spewing their contents deep within the interior of Britt's silky smooth pussy as often as they could. Just as long as she was chemically or physically protected whenever it happened.

No. The culprit in this case was my brain, specifically a dark and twisted corner of it that had lurked unknowingly until it had exploded to light about a year ago. That's the instant when the fuse had been lit resulting in a blast that realigned my brain cells into the man I'd become.

A cuckold.

More specifically, a husband who now wanted nothing more than to have an alpha male properly and thoroughly inseminate the woman he was forever devoted to. My cock stirred at the thought of Britt pregnant. I'd been stroking it hard for months now ever since Trey had suggested taking this huge step in our cuckold relationship. A relationship I had initiated.

Britt pregnant with Trey's child.

The fire in my gut roared into an inferno at the mental image.

Oh, what that would do to her flat belly, slender waist, amazing ass and tiny titties. The boob fairy had been much less kind to my wife than the butt fairy had been. She was at best a 32A, which did have the side benefit of her going sans bra most of the time. But she was extremely self-conscious about her perky little buds. Usually she hid them in embarrassment. Me, I adored them. I could hardly wait for them to swell with motherly nourishment to suckle Trey's baby. Plus, bigger mommy boobs would make a nice bonus for her, even if only temporarily.

My dick tingled at that thought. I half considered suggesting she lean over and perform her own special suckling upon it but Trey had forbidden that carnal activity right after we'd initially met him. Handjobs and blowjobs were reserved exclusively for him. Which meant I hadn't gotten any from her for the majority of a year. Boy, I sure missed those. Through dating and our eventual wedlock, Britt had become a star cock sucker and Trey was one lucky bastard to now be solely benefitting.

So I sat there squirming in the driver seat, craving relief as my semi-erect cock tingled. I did the math. Another 20 minutes to drop her off. Then 30-ish minutes to return to our apartment. There, major relief waited for my eager cock and forlorn balls. As amped as I was, a few rapid strokes should pop my pressure release valve. Unless...

Unless...

Unless I decided to spend the whole weekend edging, contemplating what Britt and Trey were doing. What they were making. Together. Collectively, inside her womb. A biological union that I contributed nothing to. Wave after wave of relentless black swimmers that would overcome and claim her precious ovum.

Yeah.

Edging it would be. No cumming. None. Relief for me was a long, long ways away. I grinned at that. Glanced over at my wife, so beautiful, so vulnerable as I carted her off to be bred like some prized livestock. Damn, she'd make Trey an amazing brood mare.

That last thought jolted me.

Holy shit, Doug. What the fuck was I about? Really?

I mean, was that who I'd become? Was this what I'd been reduced to? Some fucking farmer type who got his rocks off putting his champion heifer out for some stud's ministrations? This was my fucking wife, after all. Wasn't I supposed to be her bull stud?

What the hell was wrong with me? What the fuck was I doing? Damn, this was all royally messed up.

I yanked the wheel and swerved into a gas station. I glided the car past the pumps and parked alongside a sign advertising a $4.99 big burrito and large soft drink combo. When I thumbed the ignition button and the car shut off, she was studying me. An intense look of concern plastered across her face.

"I need a minute," I said, thinking my forced tone would provide appropriate emphasis.

"And a big burrito maybe?" she asked, glancing over at the sign. "You didn't eat much for dinner."

I hadn't. Earlier, when we were sitting at our kitchen table, my tingling cock wouldn't let me.

"Wasn't hungry much," I said. "Thinking about you. And this."

She nodded. "Hungry for something else then. I get it."

I was. Dammit. Starving for it. Her bulging belly. Swollen titties. Stretch marks. White hot pregnancy sex. All of it. "What about you, Britt?"

"What about me?"

"Are you hungry for this?"

She turned away so I couldn't see her face. "I told you... you need to decide, Doug."

So what did that mean? Had she already made up her mind? Or, like me, was she conflicted, struggling to think it through straight? Or did she not want this at all but, knowing how much I did, she wouldn't admit it? What a mess this was. What a mess I was.

She still refused to look at me. Me, the idiot husband with shit for brains. Left to decide whether we clung to our old life as an everyday couple or completely flipped it upside-down, topsy-turvy.

How does a guy decide that kind of thing? How to be rational when his half-hard cock wants nothing more than to fixate on jets of black sperm breaching her cervix and knocking her up?

"So what'll it be, Doug?" Her voice was nearly a whisper.

"I'm still thinking."

"Let me make it real simple for you. Either we go back home and make a white baby in our bed tonight or you take me to Trey's where I'll make a black baby in his. That's it. Black or white. Decide."

White. That's what I was supposed to pick. It was the rational choice, the one I should have said without hesitation. But my mouth clamped shut. My gut blazed. My dick tingled. If the rebellious thing could utter words, I knew what would come out of it.

Black. Black. Black.

It was hard as fuck being a cuckold. Half of you screamed the exact opposite of what the other half wanted. Constantly. An endless dirty war with yourself that you immensely hated and loved terribly.

Like now. Sitting in this gas station trying to decide what color dick would fill Britt's ripe cunt. How the hell had we gotten ourselves into this?

Oh, yeah.

That would have been me. Thanks to a certain brain bomb I had inadvertently set off a little more than one year ago. I remembered it vividly. It was the poker party at Tony's house. That's the exact moment when I'd metamorphized from a normal, sensible, run-of-the-mill husband into a full-fledged cuckold wimp.

One month before Britt's and my fourth anniversary I'd gone over to an old friend's place for a night of poker. Typically it was four of us buds from college. We played low-stakes games-quarters and dimes only. Really it was an excuse to get together, reminisce, drink beer, smoke some cigars and flirt with Kelly, Tony's cock-tease wife. He'd married the feisty redhead right after graduation knowing that she openly and wantonly taunted any available non-gay prick. She was such a teeny-tiny thing, barely over 5 feet, with a sweet rack, no ass or hips to speak of and a nothing waist. She liked to bare her midriff so she could show off her thumb-sized My Little Pony tattoo adorning her right front hip bone. It was cute, exactly like its owner. So I really looked forward to our occasional games, if only to have Kelly brush her hot little body up against mine through the night while stirring up all our cocks.

This particular Friday evening, Kelly was out. All night, according to Tony. Which removed the chief pleasure element from the game environment. Which meant we ended somewhat early, around 11:30 with limp dicks instead of our usual 3:00 AM with erect dicks. The other guys promptly bailed. I stayed to help Tony clean up the small pile of dishes we'd dirtied.

Tony hadn't mentioned where Kelly was spending the night. I just assumed it was at a friend's place or her parents. Tony did get a steady stream of text messages from his bride, all of which he smirked at before he quickly flipped his phone over to focus back on cards.

So during our clean up when he went to take a piss and the next text message arrived on his phone, I thought: WTF. Why not see what was so darn amusing? I turned over his cell, raised it and peeked.

The message from her said: 'about to be dessert.'

That was it. Kind of strange. As I was setting the phone back down, another message arrived. It was a photo of Kelly taken from neck down while she was flat on her back.

Naked.

The first thing I noticed were her two perky boobies. Not a bit of sag in those taut fun bags. They were topped by dime-sized areolas that ended in hard pink points, which practically screamed: 'Please nibble on me!' Next, her knees were splayed wide apart, held airborne by her hands tucked behind them. Her hips were rolled back and up. There was the pretty Pony along with a lusciously hairless micro pussy. This girl was as fine as they came, I'm telling you.

But there was more.

Between her slender knees hovered the ripped torso of what appeared to be a black Olympian. Dangling down from that sculpted abdomen, one of the biggest ebony cocks I could imagine pointed like a lance right at the tiny, helpless pussy. Its purpled head poised half an inch from ramming home to glory.

So what did I do? What do you think I did? I stared at that image until it burned into my retinas. Eventually the screen blanked and I stared some more, trying to will the next scene to come through, the subsequent message where I got to see Kelly accept the monumental challenge about to occur in her married sex. A challenge I suspected she was more than down for, given how receptively she presented herself.

The toilet flushed in the back room. I slammed Tony's phone on the table. Stepped back into the kitchen. Snatched a dish towel and started polishing glasses.

Tony emerged and went straight for the phone. He unlocked the screen, gave it a glance, smirked again, and set it down. How the fuck he could simply brush off that insane, erection-inducing image like it was some stupid throwaway meme, I couldn't understand.

"So... Kelly likes black guys," I said. Real casual, like she might have liked M&Ms or Ben and Jerry's.

Damn if he didn't smirk again. At me.

"Sorry, Doug. Didn't mean for you to see that. I hope you weren't offended."

"Offended? No," I said. "Aroused, maybe. Confused... definitely. So are you two OK?"

"Never better."

"Good. I guess it was a joke then?"

"You mean the big black dick?"

"No. Her toenail polish. Seemed like a poor color choice to me."

"You mean, for a hard fucking by some fit black stud?"

"Yes, you shit. So is that what's happening in the message?"

"By now? Yeah. She should be getting plowed by him. It'll go on for a while, especially since he's an incredible cocksman and she's spending the night with him."

"She's..." I shook my head. The whole night? Getting dicked down by that monster.

The dish towel skidded across the counter as I left the kitchen and went to stand by him. I looked him squarely in the eye. "You know this is bat shit crazy, don't you?" I could see from his look though, he thought it was anything but. He chuckled at me as if I was some sorry-ass, ignorant bastard. "I guess you're OK with all this then?" I asked. Not that I could ever imagine any sensible husband being so.

"Actually, I encouraged her to stay the whole weekend with him," he said. "Not just tonight. But she's got a social thing Saturday afternoon. Likes to go hang out with the other prim and proper wives while her well-fucked pussy dribbles cum. I think she's got two of them about convinced to try for themselves some big cock. Black dick, of course."

I felt my jaw drop. He had suggested the entire weekend? And Kelly bailed so she could... recruit other converts?

"Still confused, eh?" he said. "I suppose it's tough for an outsider to understand. Look, you know how Kelly is. She's always been a big flirt and a tease, ever since high school. I sure knew it too, even enjoyed it when we started dating. When it came time for the wedding, we made an ironclad deal. Mine is the only white cock she ever fucks. Period. Besides that, she can enjoy whatever cock she wants. As long as she shares everything with me. Nothing ever gets held back. That's how we've been for years."

The whole time he spoke, my jaw sagged further open. This shit was totally unreal. Yet he was serious, making it sound like he and his wife had worked out a simple business arrangement over a power lunch.

"So that's all real nice," I finally said. "She fucks black guys. Do you get to fuck black girls then?"

"Nope. Don't need to."

"Okay. It's a sweet deal for Kelly, that's for sure. I'm curious what the hell you personally get out of this odd agreement though."

"Besides one of the sexiest, horniest wives on the planet, who gives me all the pussy and ass I could ever want and more, and who never says no to anything... I don't get a damn thing. Just sucks for me, wouldn't you say?"

He grabbed his phone. "Let me show you something. It may help you begin to understand how I personally feel about all this. Or not. This lifestyle might not be your thing after all. But, no matter what, this is guaranteed to blow your mind. Come on."

We went into their second bedroom, which had been converted to a combination junk storage area and makeshift study complete with computer workstation. He tapped the mouse and settled behind a pair a jumbo flat screen monitors. He nodded at an extra chair, which I slid over and plopped into.

On one screen he scrolled through a massive list of files, images and videos that dated back for years. By the filenames I could tell they were porn. Most of them also mentioned Kelly. Not one included Tony's name.

"Some day I really need to organize all these," he said as he kept scrolling.

"Jesus," I said. "Are these all of Kelly?"

"90 percent of them are. The rest are different things that get us off. Here we go." He double-clicked a video labelled 'Jamaican Honeymoon Gangbangs - Night 1'. The second screen lit up with a seedy-looking storeroom, three skinny black dudes and a younger Kelly, who was shrugging off a teensy bikini much to the enjoyment of the black guys. She got fully naked and the camera zoomed in briefly on her Pony.

"She loves that tattoo," he said. "Always wants to feature it in shots of her, so I made sure I got it."

"You recorded this?" I asked.

"That was my job on our honeymoon. Her job was to get royally fucked by as much island cock as she could stand. Which she did. Wonderfully. You know, I actually didn't get my dick in her until like about two weeks after we got back. Probably 50 or 60 got to go ahead of me. We lost count somewhere along the way."

On the screen, two of those 50 or 60 odd Jamaicans were each sucking a tit while the third begun probing Kelly's pussy with his long, slender cock. She clasped one hand across the back of each suckling black head, her new diamond band glinting in the harsh lighting. Her eyes were slits. Mouth agape. Clearly the newlywed was experiencing utter bliss.

"I love seeing that look on her face," he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. "It's awesome whenever I cause it but when other guys do, I really feel she's enjoying the best gift she could receive. And I had a small part in her getting it. What an incredible feeling that is to watch someone you love get something so special."

He slid the mouse pointer over the video timeline, clicked and dragged it almost an hour and a half forward.