The Men in my Life

You’ve all been asking me to write about the men in my life. So here goes. These are the various different men in my life, I treasure each one.

The #1 man in my life is my husband. He’s so loving and caring. In fact, he’s so nice, I should probably save him for last. I mean, you know what they say about nice guys. Nice guys always finish last. I’ll write about the other men first, then come back to dear hubby.

The next man I’ll talk about is my boyfriend. After matching on Tinder, we met up for coffee. We hit it off right away and we really had chemistry. When he asked about my wedding ring I told him not to worry. “Me and my husband are a 21st-century couple. He likes when I mess around, as long as I tell him the details.”

The first time I made love with my boyfriend was on our 3rd date. He took me out dancing, one of my favorite pastimes. Guys, the next time you want to win a married girl’s heart, take her out dancing, that’s the best way to do it. I had already sucked his cock on our second date, so I knew it was big. What I didn’t know was how good that thing could make a girl feel. We made love in a Motel 6 but as far as I’m concerned it was the MGM Grand. I was in ecstasy sliding up and down on his cock. After cumming in me three times in a row, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I kissed him wildly and then I said “Yes!”

I’ve got a few men in my life, but my boyfriend will always be special. He’s the man I officially go out on dates with. Never let marriage ruin your fun, a girl deserves to go out now and then and be treated as a princess. It doesn’t matter if she’s technically off the dating market. My husband is such a sweetheart when he helps me get ready for date night. Have you ever had your husband help you choose panties for your boyfriend? Knowing those panties will come off at some point in the evening? There’s something insanely erotic about it. Another part of our date night ritual is my husband will shyly offer me a condom. I always give him a peck on the cheek and push the rubber away. “Thanks dear,” I say in response to his offer. “Let’s let nature take its course.”

Next comes my fuckbuddy. Also known as my FWB, my Friend With Benefits. I’ve known him since college, we’ve always been friends and casual fuckbuddies. I was fucking him while dating my husband, I fucked him throughout the engagement, and I’ve continued fucking him since. He’s married too now and his wife is a prude. As a result, we do it at my house, not his. Did I ever tell you I love casual sex? It’s some kind of paradox, the more casual the sex is, the more hot and erotic. Sometimes my husband will come home from work to find me with my fuckbuddy, rutting away on the couch like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. “Hi Honey,” I’ll say, all out of breath. “How was your day? Oh fuck that feels good.” If my husband is ornery he’ll come sit beside us and watch the show. My favorite is when he kisses me right as my friend starts filling me with cum. My husband loves when I show him a creampie, he says it’s sexy watching another man’s babyjuice leaking out of your wife.

If you want to know how well I get along with my fuckbuddy, check this out. We brought him along on our honeymoon! I mean it makes sense, he’s an outdoorsman and we honeymooned outdoors. It was this camping site in Yosemite, the scenery was amazing. My fuckbuddy came along and brought his own tent. Funny thing is a couple nights, my husband ended up in that tent while my fuckbuddy kept me company in ours. If you were hiking nearby you’d’ve heard me whimpering as my beautiful fuckbuddy helped consummate the marriage. “Oh fuck yeah that’s so good,” I said. “Fuck me like I’m your wife, not his.”

Next, I’ll tell you about my ex. I never had better chemistry with any man, I mean, not any white man. Sex with my ex is so good I can’t get enough. Too bad we had to break up. I ended it because he was too possessive. He got jealous if I even flirted with another man. Fortunately, breaking up didn’t mean we stopped having sex. This might sound bad, but my pussy tingles when my ex makes fun of my husband. He’ll be fucking my brains out, riding me doggy-style like I’m his filly, smacking my ass and leaving his handprint, then he’ll start saying fucked up things like, “Tell me you’re mine and you only love me.” So loud, my husband can hear right through the wall. I obediently repeat whatever he tells me, my husband knows it’s only for fun. I love when he says stuff like, “Tell me my cock is better than your husband’s dick.” Then I eagerly comply and he says, “Tell me to breed you so your husband can raise our lovechild.”

“Oh yes,” I say. “Breed me, daddy, you’re so much better than my husband. Do it, hatefuck a baby into me. Give my husband a present.”

When my ex finally leaves, my husband will run in from the guestroom, jump on me and reclaim me. He loves those sloppy seconds and especially how loose I am from my ex’s glorious cock.

The next man in my life is my lover. He’s exactly that: a lover. I only see him when he comes here on business. He’s this European law consultant, I love his sexy accent. He’s the romantic aristocratic type no husband could compare to. Not without a lifetime of elite tutors and prep schools. When I make love with my lover, it isn’t just sex. The things we do are fine art, like our bodies are sculptures. He takes me to upscale hotels, he even took me on a romantic cruise. Can you picture my poor husband, biting his nails, wondering what his innocent wife could be up to on that cruise-ship with her lover? My lover isn’t the rough bad boy type, he’s the handsome loving type, the type every loving wife would cheat with in a heartbeat.

The best part about my lover is he’s a semi-professional photographer. Our liaisons always end with a sexy photo-shoot. Why, looking at them, you’d think I’m a professional model! He calls me his little Dorian Gray. Imagine you’re my husband, you’re at work and suddenly your phone vibrates. You take it out and there’s your loving wife, spread-eagled on a lacy pink bed, a tasteful hint of sperm glistening in her pretty pink pussy. I’m such a helpful wife, sending my husband those pick-me-ups to help him do his best.

Speaking of work, next on the list is my “work husband”. I’d’ve never made it in the company without him behind me. At work you’d see us together, me in my formal grey skirt, him with that professional tie. I’d visit his cubicle bearing coffee and kisses. After a lunch out discussing the latest campaign, you’d find us making out in the back of his car in the restaurant parking lot. Now you know the reason he’d occasionally have lipstick on him at the afternoon standup. If time allowed, our makeout sessions would escalate to a blowjob or handjob, it’s so sexy giving him a handjob in that perfect tailored suit. One time I was doing exactly that when my phone started chirping.

“Hi honey,” I said, it was my real husband calling. “Oh, nothing much. Just finished lunch with my work husband. Yeah, we’re in his car finishing some business.” I hiked up my skirt, pulled my panties to the side and parked my unprotected pussy on my work husband’s lap. “Uh huh, yeah. Yes dear. I’ll hit the dry cleaners on the way home. OHH! Sorry, I just sat down on my work husband’s cock. Baby it’s so much bigger than yours, and he knows how to use it. Uh huh. Yeah, right in the parking lot, anyone can see us. You like that dear? Mmmm, he’s sucking my titty, can you picture it, darling? Baby I better let you go, my work husband needs some attention. I’m such a good worker, my work’s so long and hard. Baby why don’t you ever wear a tailored suit? Oh fuck I think he’s gonna cum in me. Love you darling, see you tonight.”

Next up is my guy friend. Every wife has a guy friend or two, you know, that male friend she does guy things with. The one she always tells you not to worry about. My guy friend is the guitarist in this little band and I play the keyboard. Some of my past boyfriends would get jealous when I’d go to practice. I swear, some men can’t trust a soul. Well, in fairness, it’s true most women do have sex with their guy friend eventually. I mean, that’s just what men and women do. Sure, your wife probably slept with at least one of her guy friends. But that’s hardly a reason to get jealous and clingy!

My guy friend is such a great friend. He never made one single move on me. Doesn’t such a well-behaved guy-friend deserve a reward? That’s why every year for his birthday I give him a lapdance. Well it starts as a lapdance. By the end I’ll usually have my thong pulled aside and be riding his cock. He’s the same size as my husband but the fact we’re musicians makes the sex special. My pussy is his violin and he makes my body sing. I love grinding down on him when he’s past the point of no return. I give him little kisses as my womb soaks up his DNA. “Happy birthday love,” I’ll whisper in his ear. He’s told me several times I’m his favorite present.

Then there’s my orbiter, my devoted orbiter. He’s like a sugar-daddy except all sugar, no daddy. Always taking me to fancy restaurants and shows. One time, he gave me this $5,000 necklace just to be nice. I posted it on Facebook and my boyfriend commented. “Thanks for buying my girlfriend that necklace.” If I have anything to bitch about, my orbiter’s always there, my eager listener, he’s practically my girlfriend. He may be one of the men in my life but I hardly see him as a man. But don’t worry, I’m not a total heartless bitch. Once in a blue moon, I’ll get drunk and give him a pity-fuck. There’s something endearing about how he cums in like two seconds. He’s the only man I ever use condoms with, other than my husband. I mean, he’s like a puppy. Puppies are cute but a girl doesn’t want to be pregnant with puppies. When a girl gets pregnant, she wants it to be the alpha of the pack. Of all the men in my life, my orbiter most closely resembles my husband. It makes sense, the two of them were always childhood friends.

One time, I narrowly avoided a total disaster. I was at lunch with my orbiter, letting him buy me sushi while I bitched about girl stuff. Suddenly, in walked my baby-daddy into the restaurant. I hid my face before he could see me. “Quick,” I said to my orbiter, “we have to get out the back door.” He was clueless but I dragged him out before my baby-daddy could spot us. Good thing, too, because I don’t know what my poor little orbiter would do if he met my baby-daddy. Probably have have a breakdown from shattered reality. I mean, I hadn’t even told him I was expecting, this was back before my belly started showing. I can practically see my orbiter now, sobbing and posting mean comments on my profile. I’ll have to be more careful in the future, that was a close one.

And that’s a perfect segue to the next man in my life, my baby-daddy. Mmmm mmm mmmmmm, my beautiful baby-daddy. Where to even begin? Well I guess I should put this right out there, you can stop reading if you don’t like it: my baby-daddy is black. And we’re not talking milk chocolate. We’re talking rich, decadent dark chocolate: the kind of man a girl’s parents NEVER let her talk to. In psychological terms, the man is pure shadow. A wise fellow once said, “the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is,” and I’m pretty sure he was talking about my baby-daddy’s cock.

To help you understand, let me give you some context. Early in our marriage, my husband and I were devastated to learn I have limited fertility. The doctors said that, although technically there was a remote chance I could have a baby someday, it was extremely unlikely. They said it’s like my body is naturally on birth control even if I’m not on the pill. Well, I guess those know-it-all fancypants never met a man like Jamal. That’s the name of my baby-daddy.

Jamal didn’t start as a ‘man in my life’, he started out as just another one night stand. My husband and I were out clubbing. We were feeling amorous and we were prowling for a strange hot man to take home for a three-way. The club was hopping. I remember they were playing Sam Cooke’s “Tennessee Waltz” when I laid my eyes on him. Jamal was tall, dark and handsome. The moment I saw him I pointed him out to my husband.

“See the tall black guy?” I said. “I have GOT to meet him.”

“Wow,” said my husband. “So naughty. Forget the threesome, I wanna just watch. Go say hi!”

I floated to Jamal and introduced myself with a kiss. I didn’t want any ambiguity. Thankfully he got the message, and it didn’t take long ’til we were making out on the dancefloor. I could see my hubby through the corner of my eye. He was watching from the bar, awkwardly trying to hide an erection. Nothing could hide Jamal’s erection as it pushed against me through his pants.

My dance partner and I were so hot for each other we didn’t even bother getting a room. Instead, Jamal dragged me to the bathrooms. Picture the agony and excitement on my husband’s face as I blew him a kiss across the club before disappearing into the stall. I don’t know how many of you ladies have let a big tall dark black guy violate you in a public restroom, but if you haven’t, I highly recommend it. It was so taboo. Everyone knew exactly what we were going in there to do. He pushed me against the wall and tore my skirt open. He didn’t push it up like most guys, he literally tore the fabric, I immediately knew Jamal was special. Then he pulled out this obscene fucking anaconda, it was black and purple and oozing with precum. He thrust it in me and started nailing me to the wall with it, I couldn’t believe it, I was cumming immediately and my head started swimming.

Jamal leaned in closer and started whispering nasty things as he fucked me. “Gonna breed you little girl,” he said, “Gonna pump you full of babies. Bitch you were born to carry Jamal’s black babies, that’s your purpose in life.”

Well fuck, I guess Jamal was not a man to beat around the bush. Well I *thought* I was infertile so I played right along. “Yes daddy, I love your big black babymaker cock,” I said. “Breed me full of potent cum. Make my husband raise a black baby. Make me your slave, daddy, make me your property.” Then I completely lost control, my body was wrenched by the biggest orgasm in my life.

“Get ready to be my baby-mama,” Jamal said, banging on my cervix. His cock was like a jackhammer, would my pussy would ever recover?

“Oh yes daddy I wanna be your baby-mama,” I said, passionately kissing him as he reprogrammed me with his cock. “I’m your little baby factory. Just keep breeding me with that big black cock. I belong to you, daddy, mark your territory. I want you to fertilize me and knock me up. Give me your black seed, daddy, put a baby inside me. Then I’ll love you forever and always be yours.” Well around that time he lost it and that mammoth black member started to inseminate me. He was breeding me like we were the last man and woman on earth. When he came inside me I got so excited I started clawing his back and biting his shoulder. As I caught my breath I stared in his eyes, it was like looking in the eyes of something primal.

After that my husband and I took Jamal home with us and his stamina was amazing. He busted four black loads in me, and my husband licked my pussy after every load. My pussy was so stretched and inflamed, it looked like I survived a gangbang. Can you imagine kissing and comforting your wife’s loving little pussy when it’s in a state like that? I couldn’t believe how much sperm there was, or how thick. Even just thinking about it makes me feel naughty all over. Sometimes I’ll lounge in bed thinking of all that nasty black cum in me and it makes me go out of my mind with lust. My pussy gets hot like a firecracker and nothing can satisfy me until the next meeting with my sexy black owner.

Imagine how shocked my husband and I were when I was late that month. Well I guess the doctors didn’t rule out pregnancy entirely, but I hardly expected to be blackbred so easily. Sure, the baby bump could theoretically be from one of the other men in my life. But if you saw me copulating with Jamal, you’d know deep down it could only be his. Sure enough, nine months later I gave birth to a beautiful healthy dark-chocolate baby. My husband was so thrilled to be a father, he didn’t even mind the baby wasn’t his. He didn’t mind everyone knew it wasn’t his, and he didn’t mind everyone knew his wife’s a cheating black-cock slut.

So that’s how I got my black baby-daddy. Since then I’ve had two more beautiful black children by him. Despite how infertile I supposedly am, Jamal never has difficulty. My second mixed baby was born exactly one year after the first, it’s like Jamal’s sperm gets me pregnant without trying. My husband is over the moon to have a big loving family, we’d resigned ourselves to being childless forever. He kinda gets off on the humiliation, how everyone knows he’s married to a filthy black-cock-loving tramp. He loves when I tease him about it, too. I’m a good little wife so I indulge his kink mercilessly. “Honey does it make you upset it wasn’t you who knocked me up?” I might say, for example, when we’re in bed making pillow talk. “Does it get you anxious when everyone knows your wife is a black man’s breeding cow? Oh my goodness darling, your thingy got hard! Are you excited your little wife was built to breed black??”

The men in my life reacted to my pregnancy in various ways.

My boyfriend was cool with it, he says it’s fun taking a pregnant woman out on fancy dates. He loves the looks he gets from people wondering if he’s the father. Especially when they notice I’m wearing a wedding ring and he isn’t. He made me an offer, if I let him watch me sometimes with my black baby-daddy, in exchange he’ll help out and be present in the baby’s life. I’m still debating it with my husband. My husband thinks watching me get blacked is kind of intimate, he isn’t sure he wants to share that part of our relationship.

My fuckbuddy was happy for me realizing my dream of motherhood. The funny thing is, I gave my poor fuckbuddy a new fetish. Fucking me as my blackbred belly started showing, he got really into pregnancy sex and now he’s obsessed with it. Good thing Jamal keeps knocking me up, because my fuckbuddy’s wife doesn’t want kids. So whenever my fuckbuddy needs his fix of pregnant sex, he gives me a booty call. On those rare occasions I’m not black pregnant, he encourages me to go change that so he can get his next fix. Is my fuckbuddy a bad influence?

At first, my ex insisted the baby was his. All the way until it came out obviously not his in the delivery room. Boy was he pissed. After that, our encounters really escalated. It’s so much fun getting hatefucked by my ex, he pounds me so hard like he’s trying to punish me. Just thinking about it makes me want to visit him right now. Sometimes he chokes me or slaps me while he’s assaulting my pussy, damn I love that. He wants to knock me up but I don’t think he can. How can whiteboy sperm compete with virile African swimmers?

My “work husband” was upset I had to quit to be a stay-at-home mom. He comes by now and then to reminisce and mess around. Sometimes he’ll give my husband stock tips or something, it’s funny to hear them chatting when I’ve just finished fucking him like the horny little cheating milf I am. Recently my work husband got another work wife. Just like me, she’s a married little slut. Guess I’m a trend-setter or something, or maybe he just loves married women. Does your wife work? If she does, you just know all her coworkers want to get in her panties. I keep encouraging my work husband to breed his new work wife like my black bull bred me. It’s only a matter of time before she brings a “bonus” home from work.

My guy friend was so interested in my story, he even wrote a song about it. It’s called “White Chocolate” and we’re playing it at our next gig. All I have to do is hum the tune around my poor cucked husband and his face gets all red. Your face would go red too I guess, if your pretty wife started humming a song about how she cheated on you and got blackbred.