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 Karl Radvanyi
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 Karl’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 Karl Radvanyi
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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