Is She or Isn’t She? Part Twenty Six

Copyright Deni Wom 2004

Bobbi walked back into their house, took his torn and soiled clothes off, and stepped into the down stairs shower. While showering, he thought over what he could do to reclaim his marriage. He knew that there was a high possibility of Staci getting pregnant, what with the huge amount of sperm that had been deposited into her womb by Wendell. Then, cringing, he began to think about what might well be happening even as he was showering. He began to have visions of hard black penis after black hard penis entering his wife, fucking her to screaming orgasms, and then depositing their little tiny baby gifts into her fertile white womb. The ache deep in his groin returned, along with his erection. Bobbi’s cock rose to such a painful hardness that forced him to bend over in search of relief. It didn’t help.

After a while, as was he touching himself, washing himself clean of his own urine, he noticed his prick was bouncing up and down with his heart beat. Bobbi could not remember when he had been so hard, or had anywhere close to this much pain in his cock. It was like he had had ten wet dreams in a row as a young pubescent boy and awakened to an eternally aching rigidity.

Bobbi was still washing himself when it hit him: Staci pregnant with a black child. . . . . . . . . He had to sit down in the shower to even think clearly about that. . . . . . . His gorgeous wife, fucking black pricks, taking their black cocks bareback. Letting their naked pricks deposit their baby making sperm deep inside her. Man after man fucking her to completion. Holding her legs up and spread wide as the next man moved into position above her, entering her cunt, filling her cunt with his cum. Potent cum. Black cum. Breeding her black, isn’t that what the web sites called it? Breeding her black. He had watched so many videos of black men fucking white women and cumming inside them. It had never occurred, in all those videos, to think seriously about the white woman getting pregnant, actually getting pregnant! And his own wife had been unwittingly introduced to the concept by him, . . . . . . . as he hammered his white cock, trying to cum just one more time as he watched the white tart’s twats taking black cum deep inside. His hardness was like steel as he began to rub himself again. He soaped his cock up and tried to masturbate, hoping to relieve the ache in his cock shaft and his asshole. Deep in his asshole now. His hand was a blur as he fantasized about Staci now taking hard black cocks one after the other. It really was his fantasy come alive. Staci had actually become his fantasy now. He could see her face rising toward her orgasm. He could see the stiff black pricks as they hammered her deep, hard, mercilessly. He could hear her voice urging them on, to cum inside her, to fill her with their cums, . . . . . . to breed her black. . . . . . . . . Unlike her white husband, whose cock shot blanks. . . . . . . . He lost his edge and realized he could not cum again. He dropped his useless cock in disgust. It bounced for a long time. He bitch slapped it back and forth, but it hurt in two ways now, the ache from his erection, and the pain from his slapping his cock back and forth.

‘DAMN!’ he thought in dire irritation. ‘I can’t fucking stand this damned aching in my cock any more!’

Bobbi toweled himself dry, patting his cock dry last, in hopes of decreasing the aching agony within it. As he walked to the Master Bedroom, he felt his prick bouncing, swaying, slapping things as he walked by. Every touch , every movement, made him ache even more. ‘God damn it! How the fucking hell do I get it to stop aching?’

Turning the corner into their bedroom, Bobbi stopped dead short as he looked at five things that had been carefully and lovingly laid out on the bed.
A cardboard box,
a butt plug,
a jar of Vaseline,
a dress, and
a note.

He sensed immediately that what he was looking at had something to do with him, and he was not at all sure that he was going to like this one tiny bit.

In a subconscious effort to stave off the bad news, he picked up the note first. It was printed from a computer. On the lower right was Staci’s lip prints in bright red lipstick. ‘Probably the lip stick she wore tonight to the fucking benefit,’ he thought. He started to read, not even recognizing his own pun.