Case Studies of the Modern Cuckoldress

I am going to write some stories in small doses. Some might be one-shots, some might go on for a while, and I might add some new ones along the way. I will try to keep them headed by cuckoldress for clarity.

If there is a story you really like, tell me so, and I will try to add more to it. Vote in the poll, too.

Sophie

Sophie stretches in front of the huge window of her bedroom. Warm sunlight tickles her copper-tanned skin. She brushes her shining hair- raven dark with flecks of chestnut- as she gazes out over the patios, lawns, terraces and tennis courts of her “garden”. The garden her husband (older, shorter, softer, can’t dance) had landscaped for her when she grew bored after their first year at the house. Sophie bends and stretches gracefully, turns to admire herself in the wall-size mirror her husband had bought her after a blazing argument, and runs her manicured fingers over her silken naked flesh. She pouts her lips. Beautiful.

The crackle of tires on gravel makes her spin back to the window. He’s here. Her young, handsome, muscular pool boy is here. Today, under the caress of the approving sun, she will have him.

Sauntering to her vast bed, Sophie picks up the vivid red bikini top that she has chosen for the occasion (so striking against her bronzed skin!) and eases her perfect breasts (32-D, $8,000, a make-up gift from hubby for a cancelled weekend in ***) into the cups. Then, she gently stoops to slip the matching (daringly skimpy!) thong up her freshly waxed legs, over her hips, and between her firm buttocks (sooo many boring hours at that expensive gym!) Stepping into her raised sandals (flatter the legs, mean you just HAVE to paint your toenails every day), Sophie elegantly walks down the grand staircase, across the hall, and into the bright light and tickling warmth of the perfect day.

There is Timon, her poolboy. He is stripped to the waist. Sophie lingers over his strong tanned chest, and his washboard stomach. She smirks as she thinks of her husband’s expanding paunch. Her eyes drop, cat-like, to his tight sky-blue shorts (they even work with her bikini!) As she admires Timon’s taught ass and the proud, arrogant, and breath-takingly impressive bulge between his legs; Sophie feels her long thighs shudder. Her g-string hugs closer against her moistening sex. Licking her lips slightly, and running her fingers through her hair, Sophie calls to her chosen lover.

“Timon. Forget the pool for now. Come and rub some oil into me, instead”.

Timon looks up at the beautiful, wedded bitch. His cold blue eyes devour her lithe body, and fix her deep brown eyes. Sophie’s legs are jelly, her cunt a prickling fire, as the hard young stud strides towards her.

Kate

Kate sits in her knickers on the comfy big bean-bag in their livingroom, softly singing along to whatever manufactured pop-nonsense is playing on the radio, as she taps away at the laptop resting on her lovely thighs. She is booking a holiday. She is booking a holiday for her, her husband Tim, and her boyfriend Sam.

It isn’t easy. Kate wants to go somewhere hot, with a perfect beach, good shops, good clubs and decent restaurants. She wants to admire her lovers in their shorts, parade in front of them in almost nothing, and show them off to chattering, gossiping crowds. She wants to lie between them on the warm sand, playing with her husband’s soft hair and stroking her boyfriend’s lovely muscles. It’ll have to be somewhere pretty liberal. Dubai’s out. Spain?

She also wants a really big, really comfy bed. She plans to spend a lot of time in it, and she wants to sleep blissfully between her two adoring men. It needs to be big enough for her boyfriend to fuck her, firmly and masterfully, as her husband lies beside them, watching patiently, and kissing her softly. It needs to be soft enough for Kate to sit on her Tim’s face, enjoying his tickling tongue and his snuffling nose, without cramping his neck or hurting her pretty knees. She wants lots of room to lie contentedly after her lovemaking, with a lover’s lips at each of her soft breasts; or to kiss and caress Sam as her husband lies between her open legs, kissing her wet bush and lapping softly at her sore pussy. Why did none of the sites tell her anything about the bed?

She needs a spare single room, too. There are times when her boyfriend has “that” look in his eye; the caveman look that shows he is about to drag his bitch by her hair to his lair, and fuck her tender sex all night, until she is full of his seed. Her husband just gets in the way then, and pisses her boyfriend off. Kate bites her lip as she remembers the time Sam took Tim by the ear, marched him out of the bedroom, kicked him in the arse, and slammed the door in his face. She feels a little guilty as she giggles softly to herself. The sex that night had been fantastic. Better that Tim had somewhere to sleep quietly and out of the way when Sam wanted her pussy all to himself, all night long.

But what was this? Portugese coast. One double (king size), one single, kitchen, blah blah. Small garden, three miles from thriving town, stone’s throw from sandy beach. Kate clicked on the thumbnails, and cooed happily at the lavish master bedroom with its huge bed (imagining her boyfriend draped nude across it, his huge cock laying across the linen), and the massive lagoon bath. Kate pictured herself, naked in its steaming water, sitting on Sam’s hard thighs, her hard nipples pressed against his strong chest, his cock thrusting deep into her sex, as her husband lovingly massaged her back.

She felt the warmth, she felt the warmth between her legs. With trembling fingers she clicked “book now”, and then slipped her slender fingers into her hot wet knickers.

Sarah

Sarah kisses Martin, her beautiful black baby, on his head, as he suckles contentedly at her creamy white breast. She is sitting naked on her bed, with her hair tied into a turban of towel, as her husband, Mike, carefully paints her toenails.

Mike is being a very good husband, and a very good boy. Sarah has spent the whole day shopping, cleaning, exercising, bathing, waxing, grooming and generally leaping around in frenzied activity. Mike has been very patient, and very helpful, and he has done absolutely all the cooking. Sarah smiles at her loving white husband, as she passes him her brown baby. She is grateful to Mike, because she needs his support today, tonight. Malcolm, Sarah’s large, muscular, outrageously handsome and shockingly well hung black lover was coming to spend the night. To eat their food, to make love to Sarah, to sleep in her bed, and to visit his son of six months with her. Sarah felt nervous, but Mikey was so understanding.

As Mike carried Martin to his cot, Sarah reaches for her tweezers and patiently removes a hair that was stray from the perfectly waxed triangle of hair between her legs. She wants to be perfect- everything to be perfect- for her black lover. She wants to smell like a princess as he takes her in his strong arms, she wants her lips to be soft as he kisses them, she wants her hair to be sleek as he runs his fingers through it, she wants her bottom to feel firm as he squeezes it and for her skin to feel milky-silky as he runs his strong black hands all over her body. She gently strokes her chestnut-bush, and the warming sex below. Everything Malcolm, her beautiful black prince, feels there will be soft and warm and welcoming.

Sarah reaches for her mirror. She checks the gloss of her lips, her mascara, her eyeliner, and the whiteness of her teeth. She stretches out her long smooth legs and admires the perfectly painted pink toenails. Mike was her hero! She just knows that Malcolm will appreciate his work, as he slides her thong off over her dainty feet. Rising, Sarah strokes her flat stomach and lifts her full, white breasts. She strokes her thighs, upwards, and runs a finger between her pert buttocks, testing the smoothness of her asshole. She knows her black lover likes that. Her cheeks dimple and she blushes a little.

With a stumble, Sarah emerges from her bedroom, with the vacuum howling. Her hair is brushed and pinned into a shining, cascading sculpture. She is wearing a half-cup bra that lifts her luscious white breasts to a bouncing, kissable shelf. It is in autumnal red and deep brown, and matches her hair and eyes. The matching g-string is meagre- almost invisible from the back, disappearing into her creamy bottom- and has a naughty strip of sheer fabric over her bush. Her pale thighs glisten as they catch the low lamp light. She is teetering on high, strappy heels as she goes about the apartment, making everything even more clean and even more perfect. She smiles at her shell-pink toenails, and kisses her husband lightly on the cheek. Dinner smells good.

Sarah lifts her black baby from his cot and kisses him softly with pink lips. She is off her pill, which means she has made her husband use condoms. She wants her black lover to give her another black baby. There is no feeling for a white woman like that of her black lover’s baby growing insider her, she muses. She will give Mike a child one day, she assures herself. But she won’t feel so perfect, so female, so sexual with a white child inside her. Martin begins to cry, and Sarah hands him to her husband to change. She must smell perfect for her black lover.

Mina

Mina pushes her tongue deep into the stud’s mouth. Her bare ass slides against the hot leather of his Porsche’s back seat as she reclines to make more room for him, parting her brown thighs and flashing her red silk gusset at her new lover. She wants him inside her. The stud had beaten her fag of a boyfriend to a pulp, he had won her, and she wanted to be a warm, welcoming prize.

It had all happened at the department store. Marcus- the loser- has just been giving her hell for spending so much of “his” money on shoes and lingerie- as if he didn’t appreciate it- and she rightfully kneed him hard and true in his nuts. She smiles at the thought as her lover runs his hands over her black knee-socks and onto the soft brown skin of her slender thighs above. Marcus had probably been about to hit her, maybe, when this tall, muscular blonde guy had asked, “excuse me, Miss, is this guy bothering you”.

She laughs as her lover’s kisses came fast onto her tits, and presses his head firmly into her cleavage. She had simply replied, “yeah, he beats on me all the time”, and it had all happened so fast! The blonde guy had punched the loser’s lights out, kicked his shins away, and then pounded into him on the ground! She had stood by watching, laughing out loud, and feeling so fucking hot. After Marcus was practically crying on the floor, Mina has clip-clopped over to him in her “outrageously expensive” new heels, and stood right over his head, giving him a last, great view of her toned brown thighs and her crotch. “Little cunt!” she had shouted, “you didn’t realise how fucking lucky a worm like you was to have a woman like me? Well now you fucking blew it, and my new lover has just kicked your lame ass!” Then she had spat at him, hard, in the mouth. God that had felt good, she thinks, as her lover pulls her thong down, and she briefly closes her thighs to help him.

Mina had given her boyfriend a single, full power kick in the nuts, and then she was gone. She took the blonde guy’s hand, placed it firmly on her ass, and led him out to the car lot. Now their tongues were entwined, and she grips his muscular ass hungrily as he thrusts his huge cock, so much bigger than Marcus’, into her soft, yielding cunt.

“Fuck me hard, my hero. Take my pussy. Own me”.

Sarah, please.

2nd that Sarah vote More!

3rd that! would love to read more Sarah.

Sophie!!!

Interesting that, so far, the "bitches" (Sophie and Mina) have been less popular than Kate and Sarah, who are women who love their husbands but love being unfaithful to them even more.

Please keep commenting and voting- more to come soon!

I'm faithful to Sarah

And you seem to be the only person reading! Oh well, democratic story-telling was probably an experiment that was always going to fail. Damn voter apathy!

I think Kate edges it for me. I like her combination of loving her husband with erotic cruelty. They are all a bit too short to really tell of course. Perhaps you are aiming to flesh out the favourites, Ptah ?

Sarah for me!!

They are intended to be episodic. The idea is that you can vote for the storylines you like, then check back for updates. I thought it would be nice to have a sort of interactive storytelling medium.

Thanks for your votes + comments. Please keep them coming!

!

Great and inventive concept........

Sarah

Sarah bolts up from her seat with tingling, weak thighs. Her heart flutters. That must be her beautiful black lover, with only the thin door between him and her quivering white flesh! Sarah edges to the door, then pauses. Should she answer? Should she try to look suave and relaxed instead? She teeters back and forth on the carpet her high heeled shoes, until her husband opens the door for her.

Malcolm strides in.

Sarah feels her sex flinch and soften, tingling more fiercely. Her hands tremble on her hips. Her black lover looms over her white husband. He takes his hand in his strong black paw and squeezes it, hard, once. Malcolm’s hard black body is incased in a new, very expensive looking suit. His diamond earring and the whites of his eyes sparkle in the lamp light. Those dark eyes fix on Sarah. They absorb her dainty sandaled feet, sweep up her long bare legs, take in her half-offered breasts, and finally meet her own eyes. Sarah feels herself wilt. She walks slowly towards Malcolm as if under a spell. She stops a step away, and stands shyly with her hands behind her back, as if offering her fragile white body for inspection.

Malcolm kisses her. He pulls Sarah towards him with a scoop of his great strong arm, and presses her body against his, as he pushes his tongue into Sarah’s soft, parted lips. She swoons into his arms, wrapping her thin arms around his black, bull-neck. She feels so sensual, so dominated and so protected. She cups the back of Malcom’s closely shaven head and rubs her flushed cheek against his neat little beard, as he takes his mouth from hers. She feels his hand grip her ass cheek possessively, as they watch Mike exit to the kitchen.

Soon, they are kissing again, on the sofa. Mike watches Malcolm’s black hand inch up his wife’s inner thigh, as he makes drinks; a mojito for Sarah (her favourite), and Scotch on ice for her lover and for himself. Mike admires Sarah’s long eyelashes as they flicker against her lover’s strong dark face, and her pearly teeth as she giggles at something he has whispered into her ear. Sarah shifts to sit in Malcolm’s lap, as her husband hands them the drinks. She feels her black man’s huge bulge underneath her soft buttocks, as she lightly kisses her husband’s cheek, and she feels very happy. Happy and warm, and wet.

As Malcolm caresses and plays with Sarah, and as she chatters to him and smothers his black neck with soft kisses, Mike puts the finishing touches to dinner, and checks on their sleeping brown baby.

During the meal, Sarah sits pressed against Malcolm, with Mike opposite, almost hidden by candle light. It is very good, Sarah thinks. Her husband has made a perfect, melting tagine; gently spiced and warming. She sips at the Château Musar that she has bought especially for the occasion, hoping to impress her lover. His dark hand is gently stroking her milky bare thigh, as he talks across to Mike. Sarah puts her slender hand on his, and guides it along her silken white skin, to the burning heat and sopping wetness of the crotch of her thong. Malcolm continues to talk as he tenderly squeezes Sarah’s pussy, while she softly gasps and wriggles in pleasure.

Martin’s cries bring Sarah to her feet, and Malcolm follows her to their baby’s room, draining his wine. Sarah lifts and holds her beloved black baby, resting his head against her creamy white breast as gently as if he were an eggshell.

“Say hi to Daddy”. She coos.

Malcolm kisses their baby on the head, and kisses Sarah’s breast.

“Want to go make another?” He asks, speaking deeply into the pink shell of her ear. Her mouth meets his in answer. She returns their comforted baby to his cradle.

“Mommy and Daddy are going to do play”, Sarah says as she leads her black lover from the room. Malcolm is already lifting her tiny woollen tunic as she softly closes the door. Mike looks longingly at her slender, gleaming body, and crosses his legs over his hardening cock as Malcolm licks her long neck and grips her pert white ass in both of his strong black hands. Sarah’s body is on fire as she steps back from her lover to see him undress. Her cheeks are scarlet and her mouth is parted and wet.

Stripping smoothly and quickly, Malcolm stands defiantly naked in the middle of the room. His face is a picture of arrogance and distain, his legs are parted and his hands rest on his hips. His big, muscle-bound black body dominates the room. His square shoulders and muscular arms are a dark silhouette against the light of a table lamp. The golden watch on his wrist and the golden chain that rests across his huge neck and chest glitters against his black skin. His eyes devour the willing white woman in front of him, and his massive black cock thrusts into the air like an enormous bar of shining jet. Mike reflects that Malcolm is every white man’s nightmare; Sarah, caressing her thighs and buttocks as she admires him, knows that he is every white woman’s dream.

She wants his babies. She wants his cock.

The large black man and the slender white woman stride together, and Sarah’s pink tongue darts out to lick Malcolm’s muscular stomach, and his hard black chest. He unfastens her pretty bra expertly, and pulls it away to cup her full breasts. He kisses the creamy white flesh and flicks his tongue across the hard, pink nipples. Sarah thrusts her ass out towards Mike, arching her elegant back and bucking as if she was already being fucked. She drops to her knees, raining kisses on her lover’s black muscles as she goes, and takes Malcolm’s big black balls in her hand, kissing and sucking them hungrily. What balls, she thinks. What a man! She takes one in her mouth and suckles on it tenderly, as she runs her loving fingers along the length of Malcom’s huge dick. He stands imperiously as his manhood is serviced and worshipped by the kneeling white woman beneath him.

Mike rubs his cock hurriedly as he watches his wife’s pretty bottom, and her tiny G-string, and has to stop himself when Malcolm fixes him with a steely glare; just as the huge gleaming bulb of his dick disappears past Sarah’s pouting lips. Malcolm reaches down to Sarah’s bouncing white tits, as her head begins to bob up and down. Her mouth is warm and delectable on his dick, but he pulls her to her feet after enjoying the sensation for a while.

Mike sees Sarah’s thong slide out from the crack of her toned ass. Her black lover pulls her panties down her long thighs and past her slender knees, allowing her to kick them off impatiently. Sarah thrusts her little, manicured chestnut bush towards her lover, and tosses her head back in lust and expectation. Malcolm effortlessly sweeps his eager white woman off the ground, and holds her firmly in his heavily muscled arms. Mike muses how weak and fragile her pale body looks against Malcolm’s hard black frame.

“I’m gonna take care of this pussy”. Malcolm barks at Mike, as he carries his woman into the master bedroom. Sarah gives her passive white husband a wink and a naughty smile as she glides from the room in her black lover’s arms.

Magnificent! I've just printed this out and, I hope you son't mind. have changed the names to include myself, my wife and a black guy she's been having a casual affair with.

I'm glad you're enjoying it. Would you like to hear more about Sarah and her black lover?

more kate please..

yes more...great story

more please! we're waitting.

More of lovely Sarah, sex-mad Kate and decadent Katrina on the way- as soon as I have some time to comit thought to text! If anyone has any ideas of the directions some of the other stories could take, please PM me with them.

Until then, I hope your wives' lovers all enjoy the lingerie you bought them for Christmas!

Katrina

Mark follows Katrina’s hour-glass form down a long, softly lit corridor, before his mistress ushers him through a curtain and into a large room scattered with clothing. Mark sees stockings draped over leather chairs, piles of men’s shirts and rows of shoes. A little black dress lies crumpled between his feet, with its owner’s black lace thong buried within it. The woman must have been keen to be naked, Mark thinks with a smirk.

Katrina is adjusting the laboriously styled pile of her hair in front of a full length mirror. Her lover admires the two images of her luscious body, as he approaches her from behind, planting a gentle kiss on the back of her swan-like neck.

“You get undressed here, Sweetie”, she says without moving her gaze from herself. “Us women are in charge here, and so the boys have to be naked”.

Mark has learned to do what Katrina tells him. Happily, her instructions to him generally involve kissing her, licking her, coming to bed with her and fucking her; sometimes staying with her all night or longer when her husband is away on business. Mark is happy to be obedient; Katrina rewards him generously with her luscious body, and he has never known a better fuck.

“What’re all the masks for?” Mark asks as he strips.

Katrina is now stretching and pouting into the mirror, as if tempting her image to deny her beauty.

“Well, sweetie, this club is for very rich and important women. We like to leave our stressful lives and our tedious husbands at home, and come here to have some fantastic se,x and to let go. Some of the women who come here are very famous. Some are actresses you probably jerk off over. Some are married to politicians, some to royalty. Those women would prefer a little more privacy, until they take their lovers up to one of the private bedrooms. They don’t like to be recognised by dumb young studs like you.” She smiles sweetly, sympathetically to her boyfriend, as she runs a gloved finger downwards along his muscular chest and his washboard stomach.

Mark finds the Trojan Club’s main lounge to be breathtaking. He is astounded both by its size and by the perfect naked flesh- chiselled male and lithe female bodies- that frolic throughout the space. He has never seen so much sexuality, or so much splendour. On a plinth before him stands one of a pair of life-size copies of Michelangelo’s David, adjusted to sport a huge erect cock, on which a woman has wittily hung her discarded thong. A marble bar runs along the left side of the room, at the distant end there is a grand staircase, and in the middle there is a swimming pool. The pool is circular, framed by a ring or Ionic pillars, and a sandy island has been created in the middle. There is a slender, black haired woman wearing just red shoes and a red g-string climbing the stairs, escorted by her naked lover. On the island, two young, tanned blonde women lie under a small palm tree, with their long legs curled around a large black man, who kisses each of their open mouths in turn. There are many couples in the water, and on the pool’s paved rim, a beautiful woman with raven-dark hair and olive-brown skin lies with her glossy legs spread wide, clutching the head of the young man who stands in to pool before her, pressing his face roughly into her lustful cunt. She moans loudly, to the delight of the two masked girls who sit together watching her.

Katrina smiles triumphantly at her dumbstruck young stud, and leads him by his massively erect penis through an array of sofas, love seats and chaise longues- all occupied by kissing and canoodling men and women- to a seat at the bar.

“Nice stools”, Mark coughs, breaking his silence.

“Aren’t they heaven? The covers are real fur. Not very PC, and some poor soul has to clean them every night, but I insisted they be put in. They feel just delicious against a bare cunt”. Katrina smiles mischievously, and obscenely slides her crotch against her soft seat. She beckons to the bartender, whose perfect body is naked except for a bow tie and starched collar, and offers her young lover a drink.

“Er, yeah. A beer?”.

Katrina’s long shriek of mocking laughter tells Mark that he is further out of place than he even thought, but his mistress soon puts him at ease with a soft kiss on his hard jaw, and a gentle hand on his big dick.

“My boyfriend and I will have a bottle of the Belle Epoque Blanc de Blancs 2002, in the Sommelier glasses if you would be so kind, Jacques”, she commands the young man, while appraising his nude body shamelessly. As the glasses are brought, Katrina turns to her new boyfriend and kisses him, firmly, on the mouth. She pushes her tongue into his mouth, and pulls his tight young body against her large, soft breasts. Her hands slide down Mark’s bare chest, and just as she cups his delightfully big balls, he jumps with a start as the Champagne’s cork pops sharply.

A gentle breeze of soft female laughter brings colour to Mark’s face, but Katrina rubs his hair affectionately, with a smile, and her sophisticated, perfumed beauty calms him. He notes with satisfaction that many of the watching women meet his eyes with undisguised warmth and sensuality. Some smile; a sleek Asian women winks and an athletic-looking brunette, wearing just silver spike-heeled sandals, aggressively smoulders at Mark with her huge, mascara-laden eyes. Here he is a sex object; a trophy for his mature, sophisticated mistress to display to her peers, and a hot young body for them to stare at with hungry, lustful eyes. This is a little world, imagined and realised by and for beautiful, decadent, amoral women. He is in their lair and in their power. His cock is rock hard as he gently kneels by Katrina’s chair, and begins to kiss her firm, toned thighs.

Katrina relaxes as she accepts her young boyfriend’s affection. She tousles his hair gently, and runs her hands over his tightly muscled back. She drains her Champagne, pushes Mark’s nose into her dark, neatly trimmed bush, and is about to open her legs to allow him to service her fully- when a woman’s voice calls out to her in husky, cultured tones.

Mark looks up at his beautiful mistress, through the coarse patch of her pubic hair, between her tanned thighs, beyond the shelf of her perfect breasts, to meet her sensual, half closed eyes.

“Lots of my delicious pussy for you later, Baby”, she croons. “I want to show you off to one of the ladies”.

Mark, once again, finds himself enjoying the indignity of being led through a crowded space, by his leather-booted mistress, by his massively hard cock. His cock manages to stiffen still further as he is presented to the most breathtaking woman he has ever seen.

“Hello, Katrina. Is this your yummy new stud?” The woman asks, in a slow, easy voice that drips with sex.

“Yes, Anne, this is Mark. We’ve been having an affair for a a while now. Baby, this is Anne de Vere. She is our illustrious co-founder here. You might know her as the editor and founder of The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!. Try to keep your tongue in your mouth!” Katrina warns her boyfriend sharply.

But Mark is transfixed by Mrs de Vere. She is very tall, perhaps six feet. She is slender and long-limbed, with endless legs. She has a cascade of shining, flame-red hair. Her eyes are sea-green, beautiful, disdainful, and cruel. Her cheekbones are as strong as granite, her jaw is narrow and sharp. She is wearing a very short, golden bath robe, tied beneath her enormous breasts, exposing her deep cleavage down to her flat stomach. She wears gold drop earrings and a gold necklace that angles between her tits like an invitation. She sits at ease with her pale legs crossed, dangling a fur-lined stiletto shoe from her carefully painted toes. She examines Mark from head to toe, lingering over the aching shaft of his large penis. Two truly beautiful, nude, dark-skinned young men kiss her long hair and her long neck, and nibble at her ears.

“He’s very…impressive, Katrina. You must have a lot of fun with him when your husband isn’t around. Are you feeling terribly possessive, or may I kiss him?” Mark’s heart thunders at Anne’s question, which was most definitely not addressed to him.

“Of course, as long as you promise to give him back”. Katrina settles down into the sofa opposite Anne and her lovers’, and takes the flute of Champagne with which a bow-tied waiter has followed her. Stepping briskly towards Mark, Anne confidently opens her robe, and flicks it back over her womanly hips. Mark gapes. In a split second he gawps at Anne’s bouncing breasts and her pink nipples, then at the neat triangle of red hair between her legs, and then she is upon him. Her open mouth finds his immediately, and she pushes her tongue to the back of his throat. Her hard nipples are pressed into his muscular chest; his glistening cock-head rests against her warm, prickly bush. Mark feels Anne stroke and squeeze his ass shamelessly. With a gulp, he feels her slender fingers caress his balls and run along the length of his quivering penis. As the goddess’ tongue explores his, Mark can only grit his teeth to prevent his seed exploding in ecstasy. Eventually, Anne releases him with a look of satisfaction, and licks her lips.

Katrina watches her lover with her dark, feline eyes narrowed contemplatively. She takes a long sip from her glass, as she pushes his flushed face down between her thighs.

Kate

Kate feels like more than a queen as she steps from the taxi, feeling the warm sun on her bare legs, and strides towards the airport, leaving her two men to carry her bags. She turns heads as she walks ahead of them, and it is no surprise to her. As well as being a very beautiful young woman, Kate has made a particular effort to look and feel sexy. Her hair is shimmering with gloss, and scented with spray. Her eyes are dark with liner, and her lips glisten. Her pert breasts are boldly displayed in her tight vest top, her toned tummy is bare, and between her strappy sandals and her tiny denim skirt are acres of waxed, tanned legs. She almost wishes she could flash her red silk g-string for all to admire, but she thinks better of it. For now.

But she loves this; feeling so sexual and so desirable, flaunting herself, with both her husband and her strong lover to protect her. She parades in front of them, as they wait at check-in, and kisses each of them showily when she knows that jealous men or delighted women are watching. She tosses her hair, laughs loudly, pouts, strokes her hips and sticks out her arse. She loves to be the centre of attention.

“Are you together?” The pretty Asian girl at the desk asks of Kate and Sam, as they reach the front of the queue.

“Yes. Well, we’re all together. This is my lover, and this is my husband. We’re travelling together and we’ll be staying together”. Kate says all of this very smugly, and very loudly. Tim blushes in embarrassment as she strokes his chin, and kisses her lover again. He eyes his wife’s shining dark hair and her perfect out-thrust bottom, and reflects that, nevertheless, there is no where he would rather be. His cock hardens as Sam’s hand plants itself firmly on those buttocks, and he prays that the girl behind the desk doesn’t notice.

In truth, the girl seems quite distracted by Kate practically rubbing her crotch against her lover’s thigh. Tim sees a small smile flutter across the girl’s face, and she barely glances at Tim at all.

Kate shows off even more at security, flirting outrageously with the guards and making a highly inappropriate comment to the female officer who kneels between her long bronzed legs in order to examine her shoes. Sam finds the whole business hilarious, though Tim cannot stop cringing.

Once unleashed onto the commercial heart of the airport, Kate naturally wastes no time in insisting on trying on almost every available skimpy garment and expensive fragrance that she can find. Kate provides plenty of opportunities for her husband and her lover to spoil her and lavish presents on her. She shamelessly uses blatant sexual bribery to get her way. In an expensive lingerie boutique, she emerges before Tim and Sam wearing just a ruinously expensive velvet corset and matching heels. Paying no attention to the hysterically giggling girls behind the counter, and proudly displaying her neatly trimmed bush, Kate just gives a smirk and a wink.

“If a nice, kind, handsome man bought these for me, I would let him play with me in them all night.” She says to the room, innocently.

Her husband picks up the bill, but even as he does so, his wife’s long, slow kiss with her lover indicates to him that she might well share herself more liberally than she promised. By the time Kate is escorted to the departure gate by her two men, they are heavily encumbered by her much increased hand luggage. Her husband has bought her new knickers, new shoes, the new corset and new hosiery. Her lover has bought her earrings, The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!, perfume, flavoured sun lotion, and a The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!. Kate has a triumphant smile on her pretty face as she takes her seat in the cabin, between her boyfriend and her husband, and lays a hand on Tim and Sam’s (much bigger) bulge. She makes sure that the most attractive air hostess (slim, blonde, legs not quite as nice as Kate’s) is watching, before she pushes her husband’s lips to her slim neck, and thrusts her eager tongue into Sam’s mouth. Kate flutters her eyelashes open just long enough to check that the other woman is both shocked and jealous.

As she soars into the clouds, with her boyfriend’s strong hand on her bare inner thigh, Kate feels her skin prickle, her heart thrill and her knickers become hot and wet. She grips her husband by his hair and pushes his face into her cleavage, smoothly telling him that no one is watching. She kisses Sam more deeply and more vigorously, rubbing her smooth cheeks against his rough stubble when she withdraws. As her husband lovingly kisses the tops of her soft breasts, she runs a firm hand down her lover’s tight, muscled torso, and grips his lovely big cock in her claws. She parts her silken thighs to allow Sam’s strong hand to find the sopping crotch of her thong, burning into the folds of her tender sex.

“Baby…I need cock. I need to be fucked”. Kate says this surprisingly quietly and softly. Only Tim and Sam hear. Of course, while Kate’s husband sits stiffly in something approaching panic, her boyfriend squeezes her aching pussy, and pushes his tongue deep into her throat. He’s the man, she thinks. The man for the moment. The man for her. The guy with balls, the one to march her to the bathroom like a naughty girl, and fuck her like a slut. She opens her mouth for him, and cranes her head backward , inviting him to bite her throat.

As Sam leads the flushed, excited, married woman along the aisle- with his hand clamped possessively on her tight arse- no one stands in his way. As he nears the bathroom, the pretty blonde hostess opens the door for them. Perhaps she wants to keep their lewd passion private. Perhaps she just wants the beautiful woman to get fucked by the hot guy. A dozen bright, delighted women’s eyes seem to hold the same feeling. As the hostess closes the door, Sam is already pulling his woman’s thong from the crack of her arse and down her tanned thighs.

Her husband, with his neck twisted around, looks on with the warm glow of lust, envy and simmering humiliation. He cannot conceal his erection from the smirking blonde air hostess, as she offers his refreshments.

Sarah

As soon as his wife’s dainty feet disappear from the room, Mike creeps over to her discarded thong, his modest penis throbbing. He presses the rough fabric of their still warm, wet gusset to his nose, and breathes in their sexual musk. He holds his wife’s panties gently in both his hands, like a string of pearls, as he savours the scent of her body’s lust; her lust for her black man. Still on his knees, he shuffles inch by inch to the bedroom door, behind which his Sarah is at the mercy of her powerful lover. Delicately pressing her thong to his face again, Mike puts his ear to the door.

Sarah lies on the clean cotton sheets of the bed, her auburn hair cast across the white pillows, and her pale legs spread wide in submission to her black lover. She cups her large, milky breasts and squeezes her hard pink nipples. Her hand strays over her hair, her flat stomach, her thighs and her achingly hot cunt. Malcolm stands before her, his stern bright eyes burning into her naked white body. Sarah draws up her knees to display her waiting, slick sex to him. Sarah admires her lover’s huge, muscular black body, framed by the soft white skin of her inner thighs, as he unhurriedly massages more and more lubricant on to his massive black cock.

With a fumble, she finds the remote on her bedside table, and the music starts. Black music. Music with a throbbing beat, a strong rhythm, and deep black voices speaking shocking, explicit words. Words about sluts, about white sluts, about women like her and moments like this. Words that thrill her. Sarah loves to listen to these words and these beats when her body is nude and wet, lying ready for her black man’s pleasure. She listens to it when she thinks of these times, too; when her brown baby is sleeping, and she sits naked on her bed with her hands between her legs and her eyes clamped shut, dreaming of Malcolm’s hard muscles and his big dick, as she masturbates furiously. Letting the music ripple through her slim white body, she looks at her lover’s strong frame through heavy, lustful eyes, and beckons to him.

Mike hears the music too, and he knows what it means, for his wife. He is tugging quickly on his penis, and staring at what he can see of his wife’s left thigh and her left breast though the keyhole, when the door swings open. He gasps out loud. Malcolm is standing imperiously over him. Kneeling before the large black man, Mike can see his wife’s naked body, lying behind the pillars of Malcolm’s heavily muscled thighs, and under the orbs of his big, dangling black balls. She appears to be too addled by lust to notice her husband. Her pussy is exposed, and ready for sex; waiting for sex; impatient for sex with her dominant black lover. Mike gulps. Malcolm’s huge, glistening black cock is thrust right into his face, and the black man has an expression of sheer rage on his chiselled, masculine features. Mike is transfixed by Malcolm’s dick. It’s magnificent, shining black head is no more than an inch away from his trembling lips. This is the dick of the man of the house. It is Sarah’s baby father’s dick, the alpha male’s dick, the dick that never wears a condom, the dick that always gets the pussy and the dick that the white woman dreams about. Malcolm takes Mike by the hair.

“Listen, white boy; I don’t know whether your weak-ass face is pressed to our door to watch your wife fuck, or to drool over my big-ass dick like some typical white faggot. Either way, the bitch is mine and her ass is mine, her pussy is mine, and a man like me don’t share. So kiss this the fuck goodnight and find some other place to be a pervert!” Malcolm growls at the white husband kneeling in front of him, and points at his shaft.

Mike’s throat is dry. He glances at his wife, who bites her lip, whether in sympathy or arousal, and shuts her beautiful eyes. He looks at Malcolm’s huge shoulders, his biceps, his chest, and his burning, angry eyes, and knows he must obey. He presses his lips to the rock-hard black dick and kisses it lightly. Malcolm kicks Mike carelessly on to the floor, and slams the bedroom door in his face. Mike hears a murmur in Sarah’s soft, feminine voice, as he lies on the floor with his heart pounding and his erect penis trembling. He wanders away to leave his wife to enjoy her lover in peace.

Sarah is too hot to care. She will make it up to her husband. Some time, when Malcolm is away, she will treat him to her faultless naked body. But tonight is for her, and her black man, and nothing will stop that. As she watches Malcolm stride towards the bed, she knows this is what is right, and what is natural. Her body yearns for his hard black muscles and his long, thrusting cock. She is weak and soft next to him. Every white woman should have this, Sarah thinks, as Malcolm’s tongue enters her mouth, and his strong fingers trace the gooey lips of her pink pussy. Every white woman should be firmly, roughly, truly fucked by her own black lover, when she feels just too sexual for her husband to be enough. She loves Malcolm. She loves his strong face as she runs her tongue along it. She loves his strong neck and his hard chest as she runs her fingers along them. She loves his athletic stomach, his muscular thighs and his ass as she slides her slender legs over them, wrapping her white thighs around his black body. She falls in love with his strong black fingers again as they invade her sex.

It is a different love. A love more pure and less conditional than that for her husband. She loves what Malcolm is, and the way he is, and she wants his dick inside her, and she wants him to make her pregnant with his black baby, again. And again. Sarah doesn’t care how arrogant her black lover is, whether he respects her or not, whether he bullies her husband a little, or how many other pregnant white girls there are lying at home stroking their swollen bellies and thinking of her black man. Tonight he is hers, and she is entirely his, and that is perfect. She knows about black men, and how to be a white woman for a black man. She has the The hyperlink is visible to registered members only! by her bed. She knows he can own her, and she can’t own him, and that isn’t fair, but it is beautiful. As she feels the heavy gold chain around her lover’s neck trail across her soft white tits, and as she feels the hard head of his massive black cock press apart the warm, welcoming petals of her quivering pink cunt, she is in bliss. She feels the droning rhythm of the deep rap music shudder down her slim back and up her long legs, but she wants to hear her own black man’s voice.

“I love you, baby. Just fuck me. Fuck me and enjoy me how you want”.

“You got that right, girl”. Malcom breaths into the shell of Sarah’s ear, as he thrusts and eases another inch of his thick black shaft inside her, with an irresistible firmness. Sarah kisses her lover, digs her nails into his strong back and runs her tongue along his golden chain as he presses further and further into her fertile sex. She wants to help him, to be a good white girl for him; she pushes her legs further apart and into the air, rocking and humping her crotch against his, to take more of his conquering, powerful dick. At last, Malcolm grips Sarah’s hair and her soft ass, and rams her tender pussy full of his huge black cock. Sarah gasps and whimpers. She feels his big, heavy balls resting against her buttocks, and remembers in a flash the first time that Malcolm fucked her. She watches his dark fingers caressing and squeezing her bouncing, pale tits, and closes her eyes again as his other hand begins to explore the smooth-waxed crack of her ass. Sarah licks and nibbles her black lover’s massive shoulders, running her pink tongue along his tattoos, and then closes her eyes again as he begins to fuck her with long, lazy, arrogant strokes of his long shaft. There is no feeling in the world like this, she thinks. She is complete, in heaven, as her black man grips her buttocks with both of his hands, and fucks her harder and harder. His pelvic bone mashes against her most tender area, his balls slap her ass, and his hard cock-head thrusts so deep inside her warm, fertile, sexual canal that she whines each time the bed springs creak and the headboard hammers into the wall.

“Fuck my white pussy…I need your big black dick!” Sarah squeals, as she comes, with thundering, thrashing, shrieking ecstasy. Malcolm complies with vigour, but ignores the white woman’s climax. They always come hard for him. He is always the best they have ever had. He lifts the pretty married woman easily, turns her to display her pert white bottom, and pushes her face into the pillow. Sarah knows what her black lover wants, and parts her knees, thrusting her gaping pussy into the air. She feeds his dick inside her with a helping hand, looking over her shoulder to admire Malcolm’s muscular black torso behind her. Soon he is fucking her again, hitting her sweetest spot with ruthless accuracy and stamina. Sarah is yelping into her pillow and rubbing her sex with pure sluttish abandon. Malcolm’s magical fingers stroke her shamelessly offered anal rose, setting the white woman’s blood on fire. She cannot sustain it; the moment is too perfect, if it is stretched like her, she thinks, she will die with his black cock inside her. Sarah grabs her black lover’s gold chain with one hand, and caresses his balls with the other, hammering her ass against him all the while. She glares into Malcolm’s white eyes with her face flushed with sex, her wet mouth open and her long eyelashes fluttering.

“Come inside me. Fill me. Fuck me pregnant”. She moans.

With a bright grin of triumph, Malcolm lets go. He thrusts his massive dick deep into Sarah. He pumps the sweating white woman full of his potent seed, flooding her fertile, unprotected pussy, gushing into her, spurting his black man’s sperm into the depths of her white womb, not stopping even as the considerable excess runs down her smooth thighs.

“Yeah!” He barks. Sarah is panting into the sheets. She stays still for some time, as Malcolm withdraws, slapping her ass, and wipes his swinging black dick dry. She lets her black lover’s sperm run right inside her. She thinks of it mingling with her even now; his black sperm flooding her, making a baby inside her. Another beautiful brown baby. She thinks of her belly swelling, of the visits to the doctor with her white husband and her black lover, of the walks in the park on sunny days with her belly swollen, of the compliments and envy of other women. All this passes through her mind in a moment. She slips off the bed lithely, takes her lover’s black hands, and presses them to her hard nipples, as she runs her hands under his heavy balls and along his already hardening black cock. She knows his limitless stamina. She knows that a whole night of blissful, delirious, passionate sex lies before her. She knows that her black lover will have her at his mercy, using her and dominating her, playing her body like an instrument, making her come whenever he wants her to and letting her come when she pleads for it. And, she muses with a sexy smirk, by morning she will be sore and sweaty and tired, and pregnant. She tenderly licks her lover’s muscular black chest, and sinks to her knees before him, submitting to him as her husband had before, kissing his magnificent black dick.

Mike, with his wife’s G-string inside his mouth, comes heavily on the sofa, and scrabbles desperately for a cloth.

Be sure to click on the linked text in these stories.

If you like them, then let me know by posting. It makes writing worthwhile. Be sure to vote, too. Thanks.

my vote for Kate...

sophie #1, katrina #2

Go ahead and vote then, Dime! It helps me to see which stories people want to read.

Keep the feedback coming.

Stephanie

David has been waiting at Stephanie's door for an hour and a half- since nine in the morning. The other girls living on the corridor have passed him, with quizzical looks, on their way to morning lectures. Some have now passed him, more irritably, as they returned. He is beginning to feel embarassed and stupid. He does not know where to look as wet, pink girls return from the shower room, enrobed from their armpits in sweet-smelling towels.

The flowers he is holding- with an outstretched arm, so not to squash them- make his intentions obvious, and leave him feeling exposed. He has bought them as a surprise, for Stephanie, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He thinks of her long, aristocratic neck, her dark sleepy eyes and the sparkling smile he hopes she will greet him with. Can she still be sleeping in there? David stiffly knocks her door again, and feels a fool when he hears another girl from another room swear at him sharply.

She knew he was meant to be meeting her this morning. He was going to buy her bunch, then they were going to see an exhibit at the museum that Stephanie had talked about. So where was she? David inspects his cell phone yet again for some hidden evidence of a text message that he knows is not there.

A clip-clip of hard heels on polished wood announces Stephanie's arrival. She is striding towards her room intently, fishing for her keys in a tiny black handbag, and David has to dodge aside to avoid being caught between her and her door. Stephanie acknowledges David only with the merest tut and a roll of her sleek eyes. She throws her door open and strides into her room, leaving him to close the door behind her.

David reflects that both Stephanie and her room are in a state of chaos. Clothes are strewn all over the place. The wastebin is full of tissues and other personal things. Her makeup, hair straighterners, hairspray, tweezers and other items are all over her ruffled bed. There is a full ashtray on the floor. He had no idea that lovely Stephie smoked. With a jolt David notes an open packet of condoms underneath Stephanie's bed side lamp. He expunges his worst suspicions before he lets them form.

Stephanie looks tired. Her uncharacteristically heavy eyemakeup is smeared. Her painted lips are dry and pouting. Her hair is tied up, but loose strands lean from her forehead like antennae. She is wearing just the tiniest blue silk dress, with matching stiletto heels. Her legs must be freezing, David thinks. He clears his throat to ask Stephie whether she has been out all night, when she takes his breath away.

Casting her bag aside, Stephanie bends a little, reaches under the hem or her short dress, and pulls down her knickers. She lets the black, stringy little thong hang around her elegant ankles, before flicking it off her foot accross the room. Without making any excuse or explanation, Stephanie strides into her bathroom. David hears the lavatory lid slam, and then the hissing gush of Stephanie enjoying a long piss.

David's mouth is dry. He has never known a girl be so lewd, let alone beautiful Stephie. He gingerly reaches for her discarded knickers, and finds them to be wet, crusted and still warm. His heart flutters as he presses them to his nose. Spunk. Even David knows that smell.

He jumps to his feet, still holding Stephanie's thong, and rushes past the open bathroom door to leave. He cannot help but stare at her, sitting astride the toilet with her long bare legs displayed, as he fumbles with the doornob. Stephie glares at him with pure, burning rage.

"You are not going anywhere with my fucking knickers, you dirty little pervert". She hisses at him, as she wipes herself clean, unabashed.

"I'm not, I didn't mean...sorry! I mean, Stephie, what's going on?" David wines in protest.

"Sit the fuck down, David. We need to talk. Or I want to talk, and you need to listen". Stephanie narrows her dark painted eyes, as she pushes a cigarette between her perfect lips.

David shuffles backwards like a clown, before Stephanie's imperious, bare legged strides. He slumps onto the bed, his eyes level with her toned thighs. Chastened, panicked and belittled, he is all eyes, and all ears.

(Is anyone reading this? If so, please cough, whistle or something, just so I know you're there...)

hey Ptah, can you put up more of the magazines?? You're so so good at this.....
I picture you with Monica Bellucci....

MB

MB2