Wife Owned by BBC by straponsissy
Indulge in an electrifying erotic journey with 'Wife Owned by BBC' by straponsissy. Explore themes of domination, desire, and liberation in this captivating story that pushes boundaries. Perfect for fans of steamy romance and tantalizing adventures. Dive into a world where fantasies come alive!<br/>
husband offers wife to Black club members to be their owned property
My name is Barbara. I have a white husband, but am black owned. I eagerly allow any black man my master chooses to use my body to please himself. It doesn’t matter that they all cum inside me because I’m already pregnant with my master’s black baby.
I wasn’t always a slut. For the first years of my life every thing was quite normal. I was a very ordinary housewife, happily married to my husband Dean Dean has a good job; we live in a very nice house. Dean was the only man I was ever intimate with. I was quite content.
Then, thanks to Dean, my life took an unexpected turn.
It all started when Dean said he wanted to take me to a sex party. My immediate reaction was NO, NO, NO, NO! Dean was all the man I had ever wanted, and I had no desire to have sex outside our marriage. I told him I was too old and bashful to be fucked in front of other people.
As is his way, Dean kept working on me. The thing is, I’m a very submissive person, and Dean is very persuasive. So, Dean eventually convinced me to go with him and give it a try.
To get me ready for the party, Dean shaved my pussy. He likes me shaved, and always wants to do it for me.
He started referring to me as a slut and a whore. I didn’t really mind, because I enjoyed behaving that way. Being a slut made sex so much more incredible.
Eventually seeing me fucked by other men wasn’t enough for Dean. He wanted me to start fucking black men.
I told Dean I wasn’t sure I wanted to be fucked by a black man.
I was raised to believe that blacks are different from whites, and that it just wasn’t right for the races to mingle sexually. I didn’t know what a black man would do to me, or expect of me.
Dean pressured me and reassured me I was made for black men. He said I was already a slut since I had fucked other men. He said sluts fuck black men. He told me how erotic it would be for me to be taken by a black man, how the contrast of our skins would be so exciting to see.
I wondered if I would have the courage to submit sexually to a Black Man. Dean kept working on me. Dean said it was meant to be. He said he wanted me to enjoy the taboo of interracial sex.
Of course I had heard the tales of black men being so much bigger, and therefore better sex partners than white men. Sayings like, “once you’ve tried black, you’ll never go back.” But, I never believed that.
I figured that was just so much hype spread by blacks to lure white women to them. I could see a particular black man being better than one’s husband.
As I always do, I eventually gave in to Dean. I was at the age when my sexual drive was increasing; I was nearing my sexual peak as a woman. The more I thought about it, the sexier the idea became. The idea of having taboo sex with a black man became increasingly exciting to me. I found that just pondering the possibility made me horny. It was almost as if my body was telling me to do it.
I realized that for me the die was cast, there would be no turning back. I would begun the life of a white cum slut for black men. I was the white slut for blacks my husband wanted me to be.
One day my husband Dean and I met a white wife and black husband in the grocery store with 3 mixed race c***dren. Ed smiled at her, and she smiled back.
Dean asked, “Isn’t that sexy? I think a white woman with a black baby is so very erotic. Have you ever thought of having a black baby?” he then questioned.
Truth was, I had been thinking about that…a lot. To have unprotected sex with a black man was so incredibly enticing. The thought of being pregnant with a black baby was so very erotic. The thought of having a black baby suckling from my breast was so very sexy. The idea of being seen with a black baby sent shivers down my spine. Then everyone would know that I was a slut for black men.
Just Dean mentioning it made me start to get wet.
“Yes, I have given it some thought.”
“What do you think?”
I stayed silent for a long while, enjoying seeing the look of hope in Dean’s eyes.
“I think I would like to do it,” I responded eventually.
I felt so great just verbalizing it, that I knew it was what I needed to do.
Dean was visibly excited. I saw him shift uncomfortably from a hardening penis.
Of course there was a small problem. I didn’t have a black man to breed me. But that was no obstacle to Dean. He became a man on a mission.
He started posting me online looking for a black man interested in breeding a pretty white woman.
I went off my birth control, and Dean stopped having sex with me, so as not to get me pregnant with a white baby. While we have had an open marriage the past several years, he said he would abstain from sex in support of my efforts.
It didn’t take long before Dean got a response to his ads. Actually the respondents were very insistent that he take me to a private club in the black side of town. They said that if he didn’t, they would expose what we were trying to do by contacting his place of employment, our family, etc. They even hinted that they might just take me by force.
The best we could figure out was that it was a private club run by black men where white women would go to get fucked. When Dean asked me if I wanted to go there, I was all in favor. I didn’t care that they threatened us with exposure and more. I was looking forward to having a black cock up my pussy. Dean’s little white penis was 3-4 inches long, smaller than black cocks. Even before we decided not to have sex, it just couldn’t satisfy me any more.
Dean made arrangements for us to go there one Saturday evening. I was very excited, and nervous too. Based on their threats, we were about to get involved with a rough bunch of black men who we knew nothing about.
That afternoon Dean shaved me so my pussy would be perfectly smooth. I took a long, relaxing bath to help calm my nerves. Finally I dressed in the clothes Dean ***********ed for the evening, a very short mini skirt, and a blouse that buttoned up the front, no bra, no panties, and of course, high heels.
When we got to the address he had been given, all we found was a regular looking house with all the curtains drawn.
“Do you think this is the right place?”
“I hope so, I don’t know where else to go to try and find it.”
We walked up to the door and ran the bell. A huge black man came to the door and asked, “What you want?”
Dean replied as he had been instructed, and the black man stepped aside motioning for us to walk straight ahead. I got the feeling they were waiting for us.
The room we entered was very dark, at least compared to the brightness of the daylight we had left behind. What struck me immediately was the overpowering smell of sex and marijuana smoke. I knew what sex smelled like, and though I had never smoked marijuana, I had a pretty good idea that that was what was in the air.
My eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. I saw that there were about 30 people in a large room on first floor. Men outnumbered women by about 3 to 1. Almost all of the men were black. The few white men that were there were most likely husbands like Dean. Most of the women were white, but a few black women were about.