My Wife's Baby Making Roulette Ch. 01

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I'm last in line for her week of baby making.
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Teamaster
Teamaster
52 Followers

Out of the blue one day my wife, Marcie, asked, "Do you think we should have a baby?" I avoided answering, giving her a chance to get it off her chest. She had been thinking about it, but wasn't sure she wanted to be a mommy.

The truth is that I wasn't too crazy about having a child, but I didn't want to lose my sexy wife. After 6 years of marriage, she was still the hottest woman I could imagine. Almost every time we made love it ended with her screaming and flailing her legs in abandon as the weight of my hips sank deep into her belly and my thrusts ended in uncontrollable spasms of my cum squirting deep inside her pussy.

Up until recently, I think ours had been a pretty normal relationship. Sometimes she would parade around the house in a G-string and push-up bra if she wanted to arouse me. Seeing her thighs and boobs giggling always turns me on! Sometimes she would say, "Were you looking at me, you pervert!" or "I love the feel of your eyes on my body," and pretty soon we would be going at like a couple dogs.

Then there were times I would wear just boxers so she could see my raging hard on and that usually led her to take pity on me and gnaw on my boner till we both got so excited she would submit to me on the floor in the living room or bent over the kitchen counter.

Up until recently, the height of our sex play was a weekend about two years ago. For her birthday I gave her a fishnet, full length body stocking. I was especially excited about giving her this thing since the shop where I bought it featured live, private models. While I was shopping at the lingerie store, I asked the mature, well-endowed lady clerk how these things fit on women. She chuckled and ushered me into one of their fitting rooms along with a full-bodied black model who was about the same size as Marcie and who smelled of sweat.

In the small changing room, somehow the model managed to remove almost all her clothes despite the cramped quarters, leaving only a fire engine red G-string on . . . out of modesty, I suppose. It was hot in that little changing room and her cinnamon skin glistened with perspiration. As you can imagine, I got pretty excited by the sight of her body and the smell of her sweat, and I proceeded to unbuckle my belt.

She put her hand on mine to stop me and said mechanically, "I'm sorry, sir, but store policy requires customers to remain fully clothed at all times. This is not a brothel. I can't stop you from touching me, however, and I do work for tips."

Somehow, I managed to cop some wonderful feels of a breast, her belly and a buttock while she concentrated on putting the purple body stocking on. I can't imagine how she did it without breaking the fragile strings, with my eager hands all over her and in that tiny space, but she did and the sight of her was breathtaking, standing there just inches from me.

In that same mechanical voice, she asked, "OK, cowboy, do you want to see me walk in it so you can get a better idea about how it will look on your wife?" Needless to say, I replied in the affirmative and she took me out into the store where she swaggered in her pumps around the clothing racks and past the sex toys. My eyes were glued to her as were the eyes of three other men who were shopping at the time. I could see by their open mouths that they couldn't believe their luck to see this amazing vision in the store.

The lady clerk came up beside me and placed her hand lightly at the small of my back and asked, "So, do you think your wife would look good in that?"

Needless to say, the sale was completed, a tip paid, and I was filled with the memory of seeing the black model in this flimsy piece of "clothing" that I was now taking home to my own wife. For the next three days I was on cloud nine with the anticipation of seeing my wife's body filling out the same article. For some reason, I was intent on the thought of the model's sweat being being soaked into the fishnet strings as my wife wore it.

I gave Marcie her gift Friday night when we got back from her birthday dinner. "You actually want to see me wearing this?" she asked incredulously. "I can't even figure out how to get it on me?" I showed her what I had learned by watching the model put it on. She thanked me with a kiss and set the box aside. I was a little disappointed that she was not as excited about it as I was, so I sat down to watch some television.

Half an hour or so later, she passed between me and the television, wearing only her smallest black bikini with the purple body stocking over it. It made her look tied reminding me of a roped steer I saw once in a rodeo. I was absorbed by the show on TV, but couldn't keep from leering at my wife's lewd display and remembering the model's curves that filled out that same outfit just three days earlier. Marcie went into the kitchen. I could hear her putting dishes away and imagine her reaching and bending as she took dishes out of the dishwasher and put them up in the cabinets or down under the stove.

She passed between me and the television several times. Each time I saw her strutting around, I got more excited remembering that black woman who was just a baby step away from being a whore. I started to fantasize about Marcie walking around the lingerie shop dressed like this, pretending to be nearly a whore herself. I know what a passionate nature Marcie has, and I found it difficult to think she could restrain herself in front of the four of us men as well as the prim model had.

I imagined I could smell the model's sweat on the neon purple body stocking as I got up and took Marcie in my arms. She seemed to melt into a long, loving kiss with me. The bikini was one of my favorites since the top just barely covered her nipples and I was pretty sure that I knew of at least two men in her past that had managed to talk her out of the bottoms and onto their cocks. One was the sadist who had dumped her just before I met her.

She seemed to be giving herself to me entirely with that long kiss, not knowing about the thoughts running through my head of the black model's glistening skin and about my passion for her "come fuck me" bikini. I took her right there standing up in front of the TV somehow getting my cock through the strings of the body stocking and getting the tiny, tight bikini bottom down far enough to relieve my throbbing penis in her pussy. Her cunt was very wet, but so tight that I came in less than a minute. I felt terribly ashamed since I usually try to please her before letting go of my load.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled in embarrassment. She just laughed at me, pulled her soaking pussy off me and left me standing there with my pants around my ankles and a limp dick to show for my efforts.

I thought she had gone to bed early, maybe to bring herself to the much-deserved orgasm that she hadn't experienced with me, but about half an hour later she came out again, still wearing the purple body stocking, but now with a neon orange thong under it and no bra at all. She came up to me on the sofa and straddled me on her knees. She had a wild look and stared directly into my eyes unblinking. I glanced down and saw that her nipples were extremely swollen and looked as hard as lumps of dried brown sugar.

Her boobs were imprisoned in the fishnet, but she still managed to bat my face between them and hiss, "Are you ready to finish what you started, stud?" I certainly was.

The next morning I slept late because of my exertions the previous night. She woke me with breakfast in bed, her body again encased in the body stocking though now wearing nothing at all beneath it. Her pussy left moisture spots wherever she sat on the bed. Much to my surprise, as I ate breakfast, the sex show she was giving me started to revive me and I felt my dick stirring.

Throughout that weekend, she seemed to take enormous delight in teasing me by saying things like, "Do you really think I look good in this? Should I wear it to the store or out to get the mail?" Then she'd laugh and her eyes would flash knowing she was driving me crazy with lust and jealousy. I don't know how many times I made her service me that weekend, but I pawed and ripped that garment so much that it was ruined by Sunday night. I never imagined I was capable of so many episodes of mounting a woman. By Monday I was barely able to walk my balls were so drained and my cock so spent.

The odd thing was that she became more passionate with each coupling that crazy weekend, so that in the end she was like an animal who wanted nothing except more and more sex. As my lust was gradually satisfied over the weekend, hers just became greater and greater. It was actually a little frightening to see the monster I could create but not satisfy.

I will vividly remember that weekend for the rest of my life. Except for the intensity of those two days and one night, our romantic history seems to me like part of a normal, healthy sex life: a man and a woman feeding and fulfilling each other's physical and emotional needs.

However, over the last year or so I have developed one little perversion. It might not even be a perversion since I see porn catering to it all over the internet, but it seems deviant to me. It started gradually and only in the extremes of passion. At first, as I was getting close to cumming inside her pussy with her milking my balls to encourage me, between my grunts and groans I started whispering in her ear things like, "Oh, baby, I want to see you getting it from another man. You are too sexy to keep to myself."

I think she must have been taken aback by this kind of talk, maybe even disgusted since outside of the heat of passion, she never mentioned anything about his little quirk of mine. As time progressed my urgings went a little further and in the extremes of my passion I asked her to tell me about men she had slept with before me. One time I actually got her to tell me about a Frenchman she had let fuck her a few times years before she knew me. She told me where they went for their encounters, how he would mount her from behind, even that he had begged to open her virgin asshole. Much to my disappointment she had denied him that special treasure of hers, or so she told me anyway.

One night after a few weeks of this, I begged, "What was his name. Tell me his name. It would excite me so much to hear you tell me his name."

She was having wave after wave of orgasms on my cock and would have said anything to urge me on, "He was Dominique and he had the biggest cock I've ever felt in my pussy." That brought me to an immediate orgasm and left me quivering on her with post orgasmic spasms for a full ten minutes. I think she worried she had gone too far when she saw the violence of my reaction.

She stroked my hair and my ass the whole time I was in spasms, saying, "Ooh, you are so sexy. I love you, baby. Are you OK? It's so good to feel your hot cum in me." and reassuring and caressing me all over. After that I could never get her to tell me any more real life stories of other lovers.

Wanting to please me, she did make up a couple fantasy stories about things she would do in the future, but they weren't very believable and I could tell she was just telling me what she thought I would find sexy instead of what she would find enticing enough to actually try. I remember one story she told about how she was going to go on a date with a certain friend of ours and how when he brought her home they would have sex in his big SUV. "Ooh, Baby," she breathed in a barely audible voice as I humped her, "he's going to get me so excited I'll beg him to fuck me in the ass right there in front of our house." It was sexy, but I could tell she didn't mean it.

So, as I say, our sex life was mostly quite normal, with that hint of cuckold longing in me, and an occasional willingness on her part to feed my fantasy.

After she mentioned the baby idea, the subject didn't come up again for a few weeks and I had the feeling that I had dodged a bullet till one Saturday afternoon after we had an impromptu fuck session in the bed and were showering together to get ready for dinner with friends.

As I was lathering her back and ass, she said barely audibly that she had a sexual fantasy that she was too ashamed to tell me about. I could feel a little life stirring in my limp cock. "Oh," I said feeling a little catch in my throat. "You know I would do anything that you might find exciting."

"Well, Sweetie," she replied. "It's not so much something for you to do. I should never have brought it up."

I hate it when she tells me she isn't going to tell me or isn't going to ask me and leaves me dangling. It's like she loves having me beg and pump her to tell me something. Eventually, with enough "pleases" and cute expressions, I got her to tell me what she was thinking. Boy did I regret it!

She said she thought it would be the sexiest thing in the world to make love without birth control with as many men as possible for a one-week time period. She estimated that she could have at least 10 guys lined up so at least three of those days she would be getting it from two men. She wanted me to be the last one to ravish her that week. She said that she would find it the sexiest thing I could ever do for her, that she knew I would be rabidly passionate with her, possessed by jealousy, knowing that her child would probably not be mine.

Well, of course I said no way. But she talked about this for a month, especially in bed, during sex, and after sex. At first I thought it sounded like foolishness, but the more she talked and stared deep into my eyes and wiggled her ass, the more I thought it did sound oddly romantic. I have never felt any urge to pass on my genes, but I love a woman who is excited about sex and will experiment in the most outrageous ways whether I want her to or not! Truth to say, I came to be fascinated by her idea partly because it was against my will.

As you can imagine our sex life became more passionate and frequent than it had ever been. Sometimes she would talk about her plans, what time of the month she would pick, which men she thought she could seduce, and so on. I had to admit to myself that I was getting excited about being the last man in line to fuck her that week, getting her after being used by so many men. And she seemed to have become convinced that this was how I was to prove to her that I loved her, to let her have this insane fling and then father a child who would probably not be mine, but might be.

Then toward the end of a passionate late night, just as I felt my balls were about to explode into her pussy, she said, "Honey, take it out."

I gasped, "What?"

"Just take your dick out of me for a little while."

I did as I was told and stood on all fours over her my cock as hard and throbbing as it had ever been. I was dying for release.

"Do you really want to see me with another man?" She was speaking barely above a whisper and it was hard to hear. She had her hand on her clit and was stroking herself rhythmically and sort of moaning under her breath. "Oh, baby," she went on, "I want to be a whore for you and for you to raise a whore's child."

"Oh, Marcie, you are the sexiest woman alive!" I groaned. "Let me come in your wet pussy."

"No," she whispered. She was starting one of her wrenching orgasms from the pressure she was placing on her clit and it was hard to be sure what she said.

"What did you say?" I asked.

Barely able to whisper to me between her moans of pleasure and release, she managed to get out, "You heard me. Prove you love me. Make me a whore."

What could I say? I had started this whole fantasy and I was really haunted by the image of her with another man or men. After all, it was my fantasy she started with and elaborated into her own. I was way too turned on to deny her anything and straddling her here, my dick pulsing mid-air and covered with her pussy juice, I started to cum in the air above her sexy belly as I said, "Yes, my love, yes, we will do it. We will do whatever you want." I collapsed sobbing and writhing on her slippery, cum covered belly as she finished herself off with her fingers. I had never cum like that in the air, with no friction or touch on my cock. I felt so ashamed.

"Good boy," she crooned in her deepest voice, as she worked her finger into my asshole. "Good boy, now give mommy a nice big kiss."

It was the most passionate kiss I had ever given her after the sexiest moment in my life up to that point. Between the magic of the moment and her finger in my asshole and all the dirty things she was whispering in my ear, I started to get hard again. Now, except for a certain weekend, I am normally a one-shot guy, but this night I rode her again filled with strange new feelings of love and passion and jealousy all mixed up.

Even more than for sex, Marcie has a passion for planning and over the next few months, she worked out all the details of what she came to call Baby Week.

Teamaster
Teamaster
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Wishes78Wishes78about 2 months ago

It really is time that the loving wives section split. I think we need a place for the BTB brigade to hang out and rant in, and a space where the cucks, and stags can play without having to see all this vitriol! Seriously the title and description are clear, if you don't like this stuff, you can just skip it and leave anyone who does in peace.

OlFrog14xOlFrog14x12 months ago

Probably just as well that this cuck won't reproduce.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

What the fuck is wrong with writers like this?

AnonymousAnonymousover 2 years ago

Didn't even bother. The crap gets deeper and more obscene every week

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