Big Black Cock Junkie: A Cuckold and Breeding Sex Story
By Arthur Mitchell
Content copyright 2012 Arthur Mitchell. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition.
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance it may hold to persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.
All individuals depicted in this work are adults over the age of eighteen years old.
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A Mutual Confession
Colette and I had fantasized about cuckolding for a long time before we finally did it. I had always been a shy, sensitive little twit, but a very open one. I suppose my inherent honesty was a big part of why she married me, along with my gentle heart and good career.
That isn't saying much, though. My wife of ten years is just as honest, and our playtime quickly devolved from boring husband and wife sex into kinkier territory. It began with the porn videos she lovingly selected and brought to our bedroom with a mischievous smile on her face.
One evening, we were throwing in our second DVD of the night when a pattern emerged. I watched the juicy woman on screen getting plowed by two enormous black cocks. It suddenly occurred to me that all of the men in her recent selections were black. I shouldn't have been surprised.
Since the time our honeymoon was over, Colette had gazed longingly at black men. Once, I found her soiled panties and vibrator left out on our shared computer desk. A quick scan of the history showed that she had been pouring over forums where skinny little whores of every race were mercilessly dominated and fucked by well hung Africans.
At the time, actual cuckolding was far from my mind. We were in the midst of traversing the swinger scene, which only lasted for a couple years before the fun flickered out of it. To me, it almost felt like a chore as I orally pleased another woman, or slid into a strange pussy and fucked it unenthusiastically until I came like a wind up toy.
Seeing Colette getting slammed by strange cocks, on the other hand, lit my fuse unlike anything else. Beauty doesn't hide from prying eyes, particularly when it's paired with lust.
Whether I heard her screaming as she came on a bigger cock in another room, or watched her struggling to gulp down hefty loads right in front of me, I made myself cum by enjoying her pleasure. It took me years to admit it, but I found a fiery enjoyment in the pathetic state of my own inadequacy too.
Colette might lie about my cock being perfectly satisfactory, but her body didn't. When she took harder, thicker strangers, she rocked and moaned with a passion that never burbled up to the surface when she did the same with me.
I went through the motions with her, since swinging brought her satisfaction I never could, but I think it became like a drug to her as well. After a few years of taking married cock after cock, always from repressed suburbanites looking for a little adventure (just like us), she needed something stronger.
I hoped that my submissive nature would bring out just the spark we needed to get our sex lives back on track. I thoroughly enjoyed being whipped, bound, and made to lick her stiletto heels, but we both knew there was something missing.
That fateful night, as some anonymous slut was getting plowed by ebony pricks on the screen, I let my mind run as she rewarded me for good behavior by sucking my nipples. “I think you need a bigger man,” I told her. “It's been awhile.”
“I think we're both tired of swinging,” she said, removing her suctioning mouth from my nips.
“Not swinging. Strangers,” I said, with a quiver creeping into my voice. “Sex with strangers is what you need. Better men than I, or those other hubbies we used to play with. You need a real man.”
“You mean a bull?” She poised her long fingernails right against my chest, and grinned knowingly, reflecting the naughty visions that danced in my head with her piercing green eyes.