A wife keeps up with her husband’s fantasies

I was in what sociologists would call an “at risk” group. You’ve read the same stories I have and know the type: long dirty blond, some would say red hair, great figure, married to a sweet guy who makes plenty of money, two children in preschool. I was ‘ well a lady never tells her age, but I’d hit that time in life we all know is coming, when women start to get horny enough to “do” things.

I had been a virgin when we married, as was my husband, Gary, so we didn’t know much about sex. That didn’t keep us from trying to learn. Among the things I learned was how to keep track of Gary’s fantasies. It’s surprising how stupid men think their wives are about computers, a view I’ve never discouraged. It makes it a lot simpler if he hides his porn collection in obvious ways and doesn’t even erase the Internet “History” or the cookies from the porn sites. We all know men are just overgrown teenage boys and his fantasies started, as most men’s do, with stories of geeky boys making it with the entire cheerleading squad. From there he moved on to stories of voluptuous teachers coming on to “helpless” high-school boys.

He almost fainted the night I met him at the door in a short tight skirt, high heels, frilly white blouse buttoned to the neck, and a ruler in my hand. “Mrs. Brooks” told him she was quite upset that he had been staring at her since the term began, ogling her boobs and trying to see up her skirt if she was wearing panties. When Gary tried to defend himself, she cut him off saying there was no excuse for such behavior, looking at her like a sex object. Didn’t he realize she had feelings? Didn’t he know how hot it made a married woman who wasn’t getting enough sex from her husband to have a 14-year-old stud like him just LOOK at her? By now I was tearing his clothes off. Didn’t he realize how horny grown women get and how much she needed his hard teen cock in her horny pussy? Gary was on his back, stunned, as I rode him and Mrs. Brooks bellowed obscenities and demanded that he shoot his potent teen baby batter in her fertile cunt and KNOCK HER UP!

It was an interesting weekend and, sure enough, Tabitha was born about nine months later. I always claimed I just gotten carried away, but “Mrs. Brooks’s” appearance on the day I was most likely to conceive was no accident. As I knew it would, having a pregnant wife and soon a beautiful baby girl spurred Gary to work harder and move on to a better paying job.

He moved on in other ways too, leaving behind his teenage fantasies. By the time I was ready for sex again after Tabitha’s arrival I noticed that Garry had discovered Frank McCoy. Apparently he was intrigued by stories of pubescent girls who seduce their fathers/brothers/uncles/grandfathers/Jr. High teachers so they can get pregnant. He was a sitting duck.

“Little Tabitha” met him one night in short checkered skirt, white cotton panties and her big boobies straining in a too-small blouse. Licking a lollipop, she told him she’d gotten all “A’s” at school, so he’d have to give her anything she asked for, as he had promised. She went on to explain that it just wasn’t fair for her Mom and big sisters and all the other girls in her sixth grad class to have big bulging belies, full of Daddy’s babies and not her. Didn’t he love his Little Tabitha? Well of course he did and proved it by ramming his cock in me, blathering about filling my baby pussy with his hot thick baby-making jizz. “Little Tabitha” and “Daddy” really enjoyed themselves that weekend and as you may guess, Joshua was born nine months later.

Which brought me to my state of uncertainty. While I was pregnant (too bad he never read any Homer Vargas stories about how horny pregnant women are) Gary’s fantasies had taken another turn: he discovered Dark Wanderer. I had to read all the stories, too, to see what he had in mind, but it wasn’t easy. There were so many variations. Would Gary loose me in a card game? Sell me to pay a gambling debt? Make a foolish wager with a coworker that I could not be seduced? Did he intend to show me pornographic DVDs of busty white women getting screwed by big black studs while he played with my pussy?

I kept waiting for him to bring up the subject but he said nothing. He didn’t even bring home a big back dildo for me to play with. Was this part of his game? Letting me stew in his fantasies? I bought my own black dildo, damn him! I couldn’t believe that Gary could be so devious in his plans to get me black sexed. He never once mentioned anything about his black friends with huge donkey cocks thinking I’m hot. I let him see me getting off on the dildo and moaning for “Tyrone” or “Leroy” or “Jamal” to fuck me harder. We always had great sex those nights, but the bastard kept his plans for me to himself. What about his boss? Surely Gary’s boss was black and had offered Gary a promotion and a big raise if he’d let me be the company whore. I began to refuse Gary sex, hinting that his inadequate little eight inches weenie could no longer satisfy me. He wasn’t happy but took it like the wuss he was. What the Hell was he waiting for?

Then it hit me. Maybe that wasn’t Gary’s kind of story. Maybe he was waiting for me to be seduced in my home. He did come home unexpected occasionally. Was he expecting to find me in bed with a Black stud I had fallen for? I kicked my self for being so foolish — and for giving Gary so much credit. If I was going to get Blacked, I couldn’t expect any help from him. I started paying more attention to the mailmen, and meter readers, and lawn boys, and plumbers that came to the house. The pipes of the house got reamed several times in the next few weeks, but never mine. I started wearing the flimsiest of clothes around the house to be ready when the moment arrived and often answered the door with just a towel wrapped around me. To my dismay, I discovered that most repairmen were white!

One time I was sooo close. The electrician I called to replace a perfectly good light fixture was a nice looking young black man. I climbed the step ladder to show him exactly which fixture it was and I could tell he noticed that this white housewife was not wearing panties on her shaved, wet pussy. When I came down there was a bulge in his trousers. This was it, The Big One, I knew. He would grab my head and force his 14 inch log down my throat. (I had been practicing with the dildo so I wouldn’t choke when it happened.) He did nothing! He seemed like he was in a trance. In desperation I fell to my knees, unbuckled his pants and pulled down his shorts. There must have been some mistake! Even fully erect his cock was no more than 4 or 5 inches. My white HUSBAND had a bigger cock! Even before I got the chance to see if the volume of his spunk in my mouth might somehow compensate for his ridiculous size, he pulled up his trousers and fled.

What was wrong with me? Weren’t my tits big enough? Was my ass too small to attract a Black man’s lust? Was I the only thir- (oops almost told you my age) white housewife that couldn’t get her horny pussy plowed by a massive black snake? Was I a freak?

I was really down in the dumps when I came across Evangelina Vargas’s manual “Guidelines for Other Hotwives.” It was a godsend! Reading it, I realized my mistake. I just wasn’t being slutty enough. Evangelina tells women everything they needed to do to attract black men. I’m sure you have already read it, so there’s no need to repeat what she says. I bought get ups that would embarrass a streetwalker. I was pierced in all the right places. I bleached my hair an obviously artificial platinum. I even paid for my own tattoo ‘ “Slut for — Black Cock” on either side of my pussy. I was ready.

Telling my loving husband I was going out “with Marge,” I headed for the sleaziest club in the worst part of town I dared drive into. Scores of white eyes in black faces focused on the white woman who had obviously come here to get laid. About seventeen black men swarmed around my table wanting to buy me drinks. Between gulps of fiery liquor I was whirled and twirled on the dance floor. I knew my short flounced skirt was flying up, showing a roomful of horny black men that I wasn’t wearing panties. My partners grabbed my tits and I grabbed their crotches. I didn’t need there huge black hands on my naked white butt cheeks to make me grind my pussy against their erections.

Someone, I think his name was Derrek, was dancing with me, whispering in my ear that I was a horny white slut that needed to be Blackbred, when a much bigger man jerked me away from him. “This white bitch is mine,” he growled. Before I could react, I felt his fingers in my pussy. Full of booze and on hair trigger as I was, I started coming on his fingers, right there on the dance floor. He caught me as the orgasm caused my knees to buckle and I passed out.

When I regained consciousness I had no idea where I was, but I knew what was happening to me. I was naked, except for my stocking and heels. My legs had been pushed up over my head and a huge cock was in my pussy pounding away gloriously. One orgasm followed another. The sensations of that marvelous man meat drowned out all others. “Are you ready for it, you horny bitch?” he asked. “Are you ready for me to knock you up? You want me to put my by baby in your white tummy and blow you up like a blimp?” Each rhetorical question was accompanied by a thrust of his cock that sent me over the edge again. Everything I’d ever read about was coming true. Nirvana! This macho bull was using me, breeding me like the silly helpless white housewife I was.

“Get ready then. Here it comes. I’m going to fill your belly with my white baby!”

“White?” Suddenly my eyes flew open. The man on top of me was Gary! “No! No, I screamed. Pull out! Pull out! I’m not protected. Don’t shoot in me! I’ll get pregnant!” It was hopeless. My body had betrayed me. My legs were locked behind his back, making it impossible to pull out if he’d wanted to. I felt my pussy spasm, trying to draw his potent semen into my defenseless womb. I was delirious with lust. At that moment nothing else mattered. “Yessss! Fill me with your cum. Knock me up. Give me your baby!!!!” I passed to again.

The next morning I was awakened by the feeling of a hard tongue in my pussy. I drifted in and out of sleep as soft, intermittent orgasms rolled over me. I did not fully awake until Gary appeared at our bedroom door with a breakfast tray. “Morning, Sweetheart. Sleep well?”

“Gary? ‘ Gary?” I did not know what to say.

“It’s alright darling. It’s partly my fault for not keeping better track of your browsing habits.”

“You mean last night ‘.?”

“It cost quite a bit to rent that club for a night and the actors cost more, but you’re worth every penny of it.” He kissed me.

I broke into sobs.

“It’s called ‘porn addiction.’ Happens more often to men that to women, but it can be cured. I’ve installed blockers on our computer and pretty soon you’ll have something else on your mind.” He patted my tummy.

“You mean I’m really ‘.?

“No way to know for sure. This is your most fertile week; you planned it that way, remember?”

I started crying again.

“Don’t worry, Honey, her grimed, “if you’re not I’ll just have to keep trying.”

Breakfast got cold that day, but my pussy did not. When Gary was not fucking me, we made love. Both were wonderful. We like to believe Melinda was conceived that first time, when the white stud bred his horny bitch, but Gary kept my pussy so filled with cum for the next few days, who can say? Gary decided that an idle pussy is the Devil’s workshop so ever since then he has been keeping me full of spunk, including the times I’m pregnant. Maybe he did read Homer Vargas after all.

That was several year ago and everything was perfect. I had a prosperous, sexy husband, six beautiful children — and one on the way. Perfect, that is, until I discovered Joshua’s porn collection. Can you belief the dirty little fucker? It’s full of stories about teenage boys who seduce their horny moms and make them pregnant.

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