The Newton Tenancy Agreement Ch. 01

When my second husband [Mike] and I had purchased our new home, we hadn't immediately settled on what to do with the suite over the garage. We didn't have enough stuff to waste the area on storage, but we didn't have time to set it up for a tenant at first. Finally after we settled into our house and discussed it at length we agreed to set up a suite and rent it out to a student or young adult. We put an ad on the bulletin board at the college and after seeing a couple of applicants, we had our new tenant, Omar.

First, Mike is a 5'11" fairly athletic man in his late forties, nice sized cock and knows how to use it. He is the best I'd ever had until recently, and he loves me totally. I'm a 5'7" redhead with big hips that embarrass me but make my husband hard. Even though I had all my kids long ago (the youngest was 9 years earlier), I had been stretched by one 8½ pound girl, two 10 pound boys and one 10 ¾

Omar was a very dark, very sexy black man, about twenty years old. When he met Mike, he was very proper and polite, but when he met me, he was very friendly, almost familiar in his manner. He obviously liked me, and I was mesmerized by his aura of sensual charm, and his incredible body. He had lots of friends helping him move and was very friendly and confident. He had paid his rent in cash, and he seemed to have lots of video equipment, lights, screens, etc., and a full gym setup. Mike made the remark, "It looks like someone likes to document their playtime." Omar replied that what he did for money was work out for two four hour blocks, one in the morning and one in the evening; between he shot porn with 'inexperienced models' trying to break into the hotwife/slutwife interracial genre, specializing in—. He remembered I was standing there and tried to drive the conversation past this to other things. Mike looked at me strangely, barely containing a grin, and whispered something to Omar and made a gesture, holding his hand out in front of his stomach mimicking pregnancy. Omar grinned and nodded carefully. Mike chuckled and he and Omar did an odd handshake.

He was trying to be sly and grinned at me, like he was insinuating something about me having a desire for Omar. I blushed. My husband and I had always had a running joke about me having a thing for black guys which I always denied, but when I looked at porn on the internet, it usually involved white women with black men. Let's face it, I had definitely noticed Omar. I couldn't help staring at him while he was moving in, and Mike noticed that Omar kept smiling at me. I think Mike knew I was going to be thinking about Omar a lot.

We stayed out of the way while the stuff was moved in, but once Omar's friends all left, I went over to see how things were going, and Omar was very pleased to see me. He had no hesitation in putting his hands on me, very informally, almost making me feel instantly intimate with him. He still remained very proper with Mike, very remote and formal, almost aloof. I responded to Omar's closeness, the way he made it clear that he enjoyed my company.

That night in bed, Mike and I discussed the new tenant, and he kept slipping little remarks in about whether I thought Omar was sexy, etc. I finally gave in and said he had a great body, muscular, everywhere. I added that he had nothing to worry about, that I'm married to the sexiest man alive. He deflected the hollow compliment and asked again whether I thought Omar was sexy, and wouldn't let me off the hook. Reaching down to start pulling his underwear off, I took the teasing to the hundredth power, whispering, "Mike, if I was single, he would be inside me right now. But I'm not single so you'll have to do. How does it feel knowing he wants to fuck me and I want him to fuck me so baaaaaaad? I can tell by the way he walks he has a GIANT cock. But I don't want condoms; I want him to shoot his big loads inside me, again and again, knocking up your little slutwife." This did him in and he was inside my burning, dripping pussy before I could do or say anything else, and we came together, as we sometimes do. There was lots of cuddling, kissing and caressing late into the night, and we had one of our rare two-in-one-night sessions.

At first it had been the irresistible excitement, responding to a hot black man's obvious interest in bedding me. But the thought of Mike's vasectomy, my wish for kids, and the fantasy I'd just woven for my husband made it all feel so intense, so powerfully desirable that for the first time since I was old enough to understand such things, I began to imagine a possible reality that would result in me cheating on my husband, Omar being inside me, and then the final piece of the fantasy, him impregnating me. Every time I thought about this I wanted to run over to the garage and throw myself at him and beg him to cum inside me. This scared me and for some time I fought to control these 'obviously wrong' feelings.

Then the fire got out of control when I imagined him cumming in me when I was ovulating. This one eventually took over, and I thought of almost nothing all day but carrying Omar's baby. I was obsessed with the details: from what to tell everyone to what to name it, whether to keep Omar in my life, what Mike would say or do... Eventually I had headaches from it, and Mike thought I had some physical ailment. He kept joking that I must have a tumor, etc. I told him it wasn't a tumor, just stress. My loving husband automatically led me to bed and began to give me a complete massage. He was very patient and worked slowly, tenderly, gently easing all the tension out of me. The effect

I couldn't believe I was even considering any of this. Yet I found no way to fault the crazy logic I was using to condone what was the worst thing I could think of to do to my husband, even though he fantasized about it with me. Fantasy and actual infidelity are two different worlds. I felt so guilty, so irresponsible, but at the same time I couldn't stop thinking about it, planning it, rehearsing it in my mind, rehearsing it in my bed with Jamal--my black 11" dildo.

That dildo had been the first test, although I hadn't known what I was doing at the time. I bought it in secret, but after a while, I wanted to see what hubby's reaction would be to it. I left my bedside drawer carelessly open with the dildo only partially hidden inside. That day, a Saturday, I found him in bed whacking himself off at 11:00 in the morning while I was cleaning up the house! I pretended to be angry, or at least shocked, but I noticed the drawer was closed and fought off my grin [I think]. I flashed my pussy at him, pulling open my puffy lips so he could look up my open pussy, dipped a finger in myself, and then turned and blew a sensuous kiss at him, leaving him to rub himself raw.

In the second test I actually realized what I was doing, and while I felt it wasn't really going to amount to anything and that I wasn't really going to go through with it, I freed myself to let loose and test the waters, as though it were harmless flirting [which in reality, it was]. On a Friday afternoon Omar was in the back yard doing some stretches. I knew Hubby was in front of the window at his computer.

I went out to talk to Omar, who was as cordial and welcoming as ever. We both seemed to enjoy the meaningless conversation, and kept it going for almost half an hour, during which we both relaxed and got closer together. I was consciously trying to let both him and my husband know that I was flirting with him. I ended up doing all the high school girl things: Playing with my hair, putting my hands on his arm, shoulder, waist, his thigh when we sat right beside each other on the bench, in full sight of my husband. I started to whisper little secrets in his ear, even though it wasn't necessary; banal, ordinary things, but just to show how close we were, to make my husband wonder what I was telling him and to actually practice flirting with him because it was so much fun. I still didn't accept that my body wanted him inside me bad enough to sabotage my efforts to remain a faithful, good wife with this sexy black stud inches away from me.

I finally asked if he had anything to drink, and he invited me inside. I grinned excitedly as he motioned for me to go first, hoping Mike was watching. He insisted that I let him make me a special alcoholic drink, something sweet, tasty, and very strong. I made a big deal out of everything and tried to stay in Omar's suite as long as I could, trying to make Mike wonder [or fantasize] what we might be doing.

He showed me his studio area, cameras and lights set up around a bed. As soon as I saw it I knew it was a set for making porn. I felt myself get super wet, knowing what must go on in that bed. I kept up the school girl flirting, and when I asked him what he'd been doing stretches for, he answered sensuously that he was expecting a female visitor for some fun later, and wanted to be limber for her. I asked if he would be shooting movies of her, and he replied, "Of us," ambiguously leaving me to wonder if he meant me and him, which caused a wet spot. By this time my legs were shaking, I was having trouble keeping my breathing steady, and my heart was pounding.

We were beginning to get really close to each other; he had his hand on me somewhere the whole time I was in his suite, and I was loving it—maybe a bit too much.

I could tell I was flushed and needed to leave. I got caught up in it and kissed him on the mouth just before I left. I had meant for it to be a quick, almost innocent kiss, but he had other ideas. Our tongues snaked out to each other, and danced the erotic mating dance that had never failed to lead to sex with me, which since my second wedding had only been with my husband. I realized if I didn't escape soon I would lose control of the situation. It was just supposed to be a tease but his remarks about his female visitor pushed me right to the edge.

Over an hour after we'd come inside, I thanked Omar for the drink and he slipped me a business card with an internet address on it. As I left, I paused out of sight of both men. I reached down and pulled my short skirt up, pulling my panties down and off, scrunching them in my hand so they couldn't be seen. I moved my clothes around in kind of a mess and messed up my hair a bit, to make Mike really wonder what had happened. I was wet enough and open enough to have just had sex with Omar—hubby wouldn't be sure. I realized that despite Omar's very obvious and undeniable sexiness, I was extra horny, to have allowed things to have gotten this far. This was obviously something which would give me the ultimate sexual high if it ever happened, and my body really wanted it, to the point that I was powerless to stop myself from responding to him. My mind could have fought these urges off, but the mind's major flaw/strength is that whatever else it does it is the largest sexual organ in the body, male or female. My next mental effort was a quick calculation of when my last period was, etc. I realized Sunday I would be ovulating. Uh-huh; no wonder I was so horny. I had to stay away from Omar until at least Tuesday to be safe. By then there would be no chance of pregnancy, and I would have my hormones under control, I hoped.

Before I quickly crossed the yard, pretending to try to avoid getting caught, I resolved to try to stay away from Omar until I had this under control.

Hubby intercepted me when I tried to sneak into the house and whispered in my ear, "Were you visiting Omar?"

I giggled, "Yes."

As I tried to squirm away, he slid his hand up my leg, looking for wet panties and got a shock: no panties, just an open, dripping pussy. He slid a finger inside and felt how hot I was.

"So did you guys just talk, or more...?"

I grinned, "We just talked Honey. Honest."

He groaned, "Aww..."

I leaned really close to him and whispered, "We were afraid of getting caught." He seemed kind of shocked, and grinning I left him standing there. While I went off to go look at the computer, he slipped off to the bedroom to rub one out. He came over and kissed me afterward, whispering in my ear that the only way he could have a better night than being with me was if he got to have a bit of pie with it...

I was shocked, but the more I thought about things the more I wondered if Mike had somehow conspired with Omar to slip me hormones to make me ovulate or something, because I found myself getting totally soaked every time Omar came around me. I wondered whether they were slipping me Ecstasy or I had my answer, or convinced myself I did. A man in Mike's position would never come out and tell me he wanted me to spread my legs for Omar; he wanted me to figure it out and do it myself, and keep it from him so he wouldn't have to face it and discuss it with me, so it could go on and on and we could both get what we needed. I began to wonder if Mike had chosen Omar as our tenant on purpose. I found all these arguments thrilling, but if I'd put a bit of thought into it all I might have seen that I was making excuses for something I really wanted. Besides, I don't know if Mike knew how far I wanted to take this. He may have thought it would be hot to see me Dance with Omar, maybe even sneak a little kiss and a feel some time, or suck him, or even let him have me—at least with a condom on—but I don't think he knew I was keeping track of my ovulation, or that Omar had a porno set in his living room. The point I made to myself was that I had told my husband I had a private moment of some kind with a black stud, and the next thing I knew Mike was running off a load by hand. Thinking about me with Omar made Mike's cock hard enough that he couldn't do anything without cumming. That made me wet.

I went to the computer and looked up the website Omar had given me. I couldn't believe what I saw. I had always tried to limit my exposure to interracial porn, because I got way too out of control when I saw it. But I couldn't resist it, and when I found pure stuff, amateur stuff, I savored it. Amateur Interracial creampie porn, especially breeding, always swept me away into a fantasy fever. I struggled not to get addicted to it.

Getting my growing desire under control got a lot harder when Omar started having visitors. That night, Friday, he had a white woman over, and she stayed until quite late. I remember being encouraged that he liked white women. Once in a while I could hear her moan or cry out, and I knew they were using the 'set.' I began to wonder if the movies he was making were posted online. Looking around Omar's site, I found out he had a thing for white women, especially married white women, 30-40 years old, a little overweight like myself. I signed into the members area with the info Omar had given me, and there were dozens of pictures of women built like me, about my age, all displaying their wedding rings and fresh creampies, and there was a flashing icon on one side proclaiming, "Bed Cam Live Now." I couldn't believe it. Could it really be? I clicked, of course...

I saw the lady who had arrived after dinner; evidently her name was Anna. She was naked except for a belly chain, and bent over while a black man, apparently Omar, licked her from behind. I minimized the screen and quickly snuck into the bedroom to retrieve Jamal, then hurried back to the computer. When I looked back at the screen, I could see Anna on her back, and Omar was between her legs. As I started watching, she was anticipating his entry. I slid Jamal's thick head up to my clit and teased myself for a while before slowly working it between my lips, riding it like I was having a seizure, not super fast but uncontrollably. I could not stop myself from mimicking what I saw on the screen, wishing with my entire soul that I was her. I sat enthralled as he touched her with his manhood and her head fell back, her eyes closed and her mouth wide open. I couldn't see his cock entering her, but seeing her reaction was driving me crazy.

Soon I was working Jamal into me. Normally it takes me a while, generally 5 minutes because of its size, but that night it went right in. I had been using it several times a day since Jamal moved in, so I was stretched a bit anyway, but I was also very, very excited. I found the whole thing to be way more intense witnessing it live, and I found myself sitting on it, taking it all the way in. I watched as he started moving in her, and rocked back and forth on my giant jelly dildo. He was talking to her, asking her if she really wanted him to do it. He asked if she was ovulating and she nodded yes.

Apparently I started to make noise, so Mike came in to check on me. I had to quickly close everything on the screen, and try to stop my hips from moving me around on the huge dildo. Once I had convinced Mike that I was alright and chased him off, I reopened the site and saw him pounding her hard, and she was kissing him. He said, "Here it comes," and held himself deep inside her. I knew he was cumming in her, and again her reaction was enough to set me off. Since I first learned about my reproductive system, beginning about the third grade, I've had a 'thing' about feeling a guy push his cockhead against my cervix and squirt his sperm up into my womb. Now I didn't care if Mike came in and saw me, I had to release after that. I kept imagining how it would feel spurting up inside me, and then when Omar pulled himself out and I saw his size, I gasped out loud and Mike did come in. I heard him and minimized quickly. Just in time, at least I thought. I kept coming as I pretended to wait for something to load. Mike again split, and I let loose all over my big dildo, soaking the chair. Without even cleaning up, I watched as the couple made love a second time and then rested easily, kissing occasionally and then him giving her an allover massage. He had her on her back and was feeling her from her toes first then up her shins to her thighs where he loitered for some time—much to her delight—then skipped over her groin completely, settling one hand on her tummy. When I saw him caressing her tummy and heard them talk about her and her husband's preparations for the new baby. Within a few seconds of hearing this, Jamal was all the way inside me again, pressed against my cervix. I came for a long time. A minute? Twenty? It felt like a day. By the time I slowed down and got under control, my legs were shaking, my heart pounding in my chest, and I hurt everywhere. I told Mike I didn't feel well and went to bed, already exhausted.

On Saturday I had a chance to talk to Omar, who was as inviting and friendly as ever. He joked around about whether I had ever been in any movies. My heart was pounding, I was sweating and dripping. I blushed and said I could never do that. He continued to tease me and told me that I looked incredible and that I should think about it. I said that my hubby would never appear with me in such a video. He put his hand on my ass and squeezed firmly, leaning in close and whispered sensuously in my ear, "Who said anything about hubby?" He kept his hand firmly, confidently on my ass, sliding over so he could reach his fingertips in to my pussy, and held me like that as I shook with the hottest orgasm I'd had since my honeymoon. It was all so bad, so wrong. That's what made it good. But the fact that my husband and I wanted kids, and my husband couldn't be the father, and he didn't mind if the baby was black and actually seemed to prefer it—suddenly made it all seem right, enough to make me actually convince myself that I was considering being impregnated by a black stud while I was broadcast live on the internet, thirty-five feet from my husband in his chair. The conflicts and shock at being able to find one way after another to justify not only fantasizing about it, but how to get away with actually doing it, had my head swirling in a cloud of lustful desire, earthy and desperate; coupled with a longing for the excitement of a new lover and the youthful rebirth it represents; plus the deep, beautiful need to be a mother again with a man who totally turns me on—a strong, virile black man whom I've already nearly fucked twice. When I'd finished cumming, he kept his fingers stuffed up against me, and we kissed for several minutes.