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Young Wife

May 2, 2010

By tunacan

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Let me introduce myself. I'm called Leon, a social worker.

It's a pretty lousy job most of the time. The decisions I make are often heartbreaking. It's my job to take children away from their parents, if I think that is in the best interest of the child. Sometimes, the choice is clear. The parents are obviously abusive, or incompetent. But more often it's a close judgment call, and while I always put on an outer show of total know it all confidence, inside myself, there is often doubt.

Sometimes though, there are "feel good" days, when I can just be happy with myself. Today was such a day; a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Peters, the third and surely final meeting, when I would approve their adoption of a baby.

I was looking forward to this meeting for another reason; Mrs. Peters was an absolute knockout. I mean, it's not like I expected anything. But Mrs. Peters was the kind of woman that it was just a joy to be in the same room with.

She's big. That is, tall and voluptous. At least five foot 10. I'm merely 5' 8", an older blackman in my 50's ready for an early retirement.

Her hair is light blonde, clear ivory skin, green eyes, huge breasts. Her hips are very slim, but they're slim compare to her magnificent breasts, and her, well, her rather womanly ass.

She's the type of woman who's aware of the way she can charm most men out of anything. She'd been blatantly turning that charm on me during our first two meetings in my office, notwithstanding the fact that her husband was present.

Mr. Peters is a young doctor of 33, he has a residency in a local hospital. Mrs. Peters is a homemaker and at 25, very young but not naive, somewhat sophisticated and charming.

They are having problem having children of their own, but mostly hers alone. The problem was as her doctor mentioned her ovarian is very small and unable to hold sperm. In spite of that, her husband love her just the same. This is the reason the couple want to adopt.

There was absolutely no roblem with approving the adoption; this meeting was all pleasure. The pleasure of finding a good home for a child, fulfilling the wishes of a childless couple, and basking in the charm of the lovely young Mrs. Peters.

It was the first time we were meeting at their house; it was part of my job to check the accommodations, the neighborhood, etc. the meeting was for 5:30pm. I'd had a pretty rotten day, and the traffic out to the suburbs was nasty. Perhaps I wasn't in the best of moods.

She met me at the door. I was standing one step lower than her, my face was level with her amazing chest.

"Come on in Leon!" She said, offering her hand.

While I'm working, I'm certainly not allowed to let a woman's charms influence my judgment. But the judgment was clear in this case. They were a beautiful young couple, with a beautiful home in lovely neighborhood. Therefore, I could let myself relax, and simply enjoy the next hour; while I had coffee with the voluptuous Mrs. Peters and her husband, and we went through the last of the forms.

It was exquisite, the way my old heart quivered with excitement at her touch. Mrs. Peters must be about the most fertile looking woman I've ever seen. She looked as though she could knock out two or three babies at once, and then care for them all with one hand tied behind her back.

She released my hand as I stepped into the foyer, and I felt my old brain click back into gear.

"Coffee, Leon?"

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Peters. Coffee would be nice. Where is Mr. Peters?"

"He's still at the hospital, he should be here any time."

"Mrs. Peters, you know that you're both required to be present for this meeting."

"Yes Leon , I know. I'm terribly sorry, I'm sure he'll be here any minute.

Well, I didn't really mind. This meant I could sit alone with Mrs. Peters for a little while, while she blasted me with the force of her womanhood, and served me coffee.

She was wearing a white blouse over a short black skirt, and she sat opposite me, her gorgeous long white legs very much in evidence. She seemed to fill the entire room with her magnificence, and I allowed myself to submerge in it, letting her image soak into my brain, hoping I might dream of her pleasantly that night.

Of course you know that if all I was going to get from this was a dream, I wouldn't have bothered to write the story.

The phone rang; she looked at me nervously as she listened. She placed the hand piece gently back in its cradle. She looked up at me again.

"That was my husband. He can't leave there for at least another two hours. It's life-and-death. Literally. That's what he said."

She had those green eyes turned on me at full force. It was enough to make any man's testosterone levels rise. Nonetheless, I didn't want to wait two hours. I was hungry and tired. Besides, I could come again sometime during the week.

I stood. "I'm afraid I can't wait that long, Mrs. Peters."

"No! You mustn't go!" She stood quickly, blocking the doorway. I nearly collided with her. I found myself standing only inches from her breasts. The rest of her was a little bit farther back.

"Mrs. Peters, please."

She stood her ground.

In fact, she advanced. She pushed me back into the room, she literally pushed me bodily. With her body.

Her hips were against my stomach, her breasts pushed into my shoulders. She walked me back towards the couch.

"What do I have to do to make you stay, Leon?"

"Mrs. Peters! Why are you doing this?"

"I want a baby, Mr. Barnes. I want a baby more than I can tell you, I need a baby. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

It wasn't the first time that a woman had wanted barter sex for a favorable decision from me. But it had always been prostitutes or junkies before. And by the way, I'd never gone for it.

Mrs. Peters seemed to be under the impression that if I left now, the adoption process would be in jeopardy.

I'm not a young man, but I don't do badly with the ladies. I'm not very tall, but still virile. My sparse hair is gray, but I still have it. I'm an African-American man; that has not been a handicap at least not in the bedroom.

But no one with the sexual force of Mrs. Peters had ever done something like this to me. Testosterone was in overdrive, logic circuits all off-line. There was a slight peep from moral judgment, but the proximity of the statuesque beauty called Mrs. Peters soon silenced it.

She was willing to abuse her power; that wasn't very ethical. I was in the beautiful situation of not having to compromise myself. Not much, anyway.

If my arms hadn't gone around her muscular midriff, I would've fallen over the coffee table. I was trapped, there was no escape from her power.

Her hand clutched my hin gray hair, pulling my head back. Her lips were so close that her breath went straight down my throat, impacting hard against my heart, as she spoke.

"Do you still want to leave, Leon? Or would you rather stay awhile?"

My God, if she wanted a baby so bad, I'd do everything in my power to help her have one. And I wasn't thinking of the adoption process. Actually, as I said before, I wasn't thinking much at all.

I have to say that when Mrs. Peters did something, she didn't do it halfway. I was engulfed in her beauty, ensnared by her mouth, captivated by her tongue.

She had a generous ass. I'm sorry if this is some kind of stereotype, but I do like a generous ass. Mrs. Peters had the ass of a woman, not a child. My hardening black cock was trapped by her pelvis as my hands groped under her skirt.

She broke the embrace, stepping back a step. Her nipples had hardened.

She kept me trapped in her gaze as she removed her blouse. Her breasts hung heavily in the reinforced bra. She pushed them even farther forward as she reached behind, releasing the hook. She slipped the straps over her shoulders, letting those wonderful tits swing free.

They were real ones; they didn't stick up or sideways. They hung forward and down, the pink nipples protruding forward.

I tore my eyes away from the grandeur for a moment, and found her face. Her expression was hard to read. Determination. Resignation, triumph. Lust?

As I unbuttoned my shirt, and removed it and my undershirt, I wondered if that was possible; the lust I mean. I decided probably not, but I would let myself play along. What a fantasy, what a dream; what a woman.

We embraced again, both of us naked now from the waist up. Her skin on my skin was electrifying, primal. She was silky smooth all over, her shoulders, her back, her hips.

She bit me, she bit my shoulders, my cheeks, my lips. I think she growled. She was a predator, I was prey. She could be the black widow, and eat me when we were done. I didn't care.

She was naked, fully undressed. On the couch. One long ivory leg on the floor, one on the backrest. The valley between her thighs was paradise, paradise waiting for me. Her thick pubic hair was blond and curly.

I lay myself down on top of her, also naked, and her white hand gripped my thick black erection as I kissed her, reveling in her beauty and youth. She held into my black missile, squeezing and feeling it and marvelled at its size. She slowly was pushing my hips lower, lower so that my big black cock would be in line for exact position, so that I could enter her.

I didn't actually want to fuck her yet. I wanted to enjoy her some more first, but who was I to argue? If she wanted my thick big black cock inside of her, then surely that's where it wanted to be.

She was as firm and smooth on the inside as she was on the outside. She was turned on; I had thought she was faking it, but some things can't be faked. At first my old black cock meet resistance at entrance, as I pushed and pushed, finally the thick bulbous head slid into her like a hand into a glove, a perfect fit, made for each other.

She gasped and moan as I slowly penetrated and parted her sweet blonde pussy. Her hand clutched my black ass, the other in the small of my back. She was tight as hell as I stroke her slowly. Mrs. Peters was making primal guttural sounds as I fucked her fervently, straight up and sideways. She was cooing just like the pidgeons I sometime feed whenever I visited a certain park.

I must admit, I do have a big black cock. I didn't write this to brag about the size of my cock, but it has to be said. I usually have to slowly work it in a little at a time. Mrs. Peters just spread those great legs of hers wide, and gasped as I entered her with one long, slow, stroke.

Did she fake those orgasms? Who cares. She wanted me to think I made her come, and I think I made her come. What Mrs. Peters wants, Mrs. Peters gets. She was panting and breathing hard as I continued to pound that young blond pussy for about 15 minutes without rest.

Anyway, I'm sure about the last one. There was a vein pulsing in her forehead, she was squeezing my old black cock like a vice, I was drowning in her. She was squealing like a little piglet as I thrust in and out motions. The contrast of our skins was amazing. Sweats from my onslaught fell squarely on her lovely breasts. Her long pale legs are now wrapped around my black ass, as I continued grounding into Mrs. Peters depth.

"Come baby. Come on baby, come in me!" She panted in my ear.

Finally my fertile black seed gushes out into Mrs. Peters blonde honey pit. It was like a torrential rain rushing out like there's no tomorrow.

I can't think when was the last time I'd had come like that. Maybe never.

We lay there like that for sometime. My eyes found the clock. It had only been half an hour.

"Maybe I should come back tomorrow." I told her, still on her, my big black cock still in her, toying with her lovely blonde hair.

"Yes." She said, slightly spaced her green eyes glazed. "I think I'd better have a shower before my husband comes home."

She phoned me the next day at my office;

"Do you think you could come by tonight at about 7?"

"For you, Mrs. Peters, anytime. Anyplace. Seven it is."

I was pretty sure we were just going to do the paperwork, probably Dr. Peters would be in residence this evening.

On the other hand, dreams are free. I couldn't help but have a very pleasant one during the drive. What a woman.

He was home. I hope the disappointment didn't show on my face.

Dr. Peters is tall and handsome, his handshake firm. He is clearly the man who should be the husband of the magnificent creature who was his wife.

The woman who would no doubt be starring in my dreams until the day I die was wearing a blue dress that came down to her ankles. It hugged her amazing physique, her dreamy hourglass figure. Such a dress would have been conservative on a lesser woman.

"We're so sorry that my husband missed the meeting yesterday, Leon."

I wasn't.

"Would you do us the honor of having dinner with us?"

"Of course. How could I refuse so gracious an invitation?"

And on top of all the charms that I've already discussed at length, she could cook, too.

When we had eaten we retired to the living room, and spread the paperwork over the coffee table, Mrs. Peters and I sitting on the very couch.

We took care of the business quickly. All was signed and ready. I stood.

"Mr. and Mrs. Peters, I'm pleased to tell you that you may pick up your child tomorrow morning."

I shook his hand, and kissed her.

Kissed her.

Kissed her.

This was a little outrageous. Her arms were around me in a very unprofessional way. Her mouth was consuming me as it had the day before.

We broke apart, burst apart by sheer willpower. Dr. Peters seemed slightly shocked.

"Darling," she said to him, "why don't you go upstairs. Have an early night. I want to be alone with Leon for a while."

A few outrageous things have happened to me in my life, and I've heard a few outrageous stories. But I'd never heard of a wife telling her husband to go away so that she could be with another man. Not to mention one more twice her age and umm, black.

"All right, dear." He said, looking cowed. And he simply went upstairs.

She grabbed my hand in hers; she had that look on her face again, but this time there was definitely lust in it.

"There's a guestroom." She told me.

She strode ahead of me like a queen, Regal, graceful, powerful. Pulling me by the hand.

She threw the door closed behind us. It was a small room; a bed, a night table, and a closet. A bed.

We were all over each other, hands everywhere, lips, teeth, nails.

This time I wouldn't be denied, and my tongue went to her blonde snatch like a bee to the flower. She was delicious, she tasted like honey as my black hands parted her openings, my tongue was dancing inside. I can see her juices flow freely as I continued licking and probing. Mrs. Peters was moving about and moaning like chimpanzee. Her pale hands gripped the side side of the bed firmly as her eyes were completely closed.

I love to lick a woman. I love to lick her until she can barely take it any more. I love to deny myself while I do it, but if she wants to suck my cock at the same time, that's even better.

She wanted to, but she couldn't comfortably reach it. She was too much longer than I. She stroked me with her hands, her lovely long white hands roaming over my black cock and balls, caressing my old black ass.

Somewhere along the line the hormones that were ruling my brain were interrupted by the thought of Dr. Peters. What was he doing? What was he feeling?

I pulled my head up from between her luscious white thighs, and rolled onto my back, hesitant and unsure. I should tell her that this wasn't right.

Her mouth, her gorgeous mouth, descended.

She sucked on my thick black dick like it was the last black dick on earth. She sucked on it like it was the greatest thing she'd ever had to suck on, she licked its length as though it where the sweetest candy, her lovely eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation.

Once more, moral judgment was shut down. More than shut down, it was nuked. I think it hasn't recovered since.

She climbed on top of me, and once more my big black dick slid easily into her slippery blonde pussy. That slim young white body and that big old black dick just seemed to be made to go together.

I ran my hands over her belly, her flat white belly, up to her big white breasts, lifting them, holding their weight as she rocked back and forth on me. Mrs. Peters was squeezing that thick black cock without mercy. I can feel her love cream running down the sides of my old black cock. She kept repeating words that I can't understand at the throes of her passions.

I never particularly liked this position. Mrs. Peters pushed her pelvis back so hard each time, that it hurt me some. She was getting such pleasure out of it though, that I relaxed and let her.

She stopped for a minute while I propped myself on some pillows. Now I could run my hands over her hips and her back while she carried on.

She finally came, I can feel her belly contracted as she bent down and kissed me deeply. Her tongue almost devour me completely as she continued sticking it down my throat. Finally, she stopped and just lay down on me breathing very hard.

We changed, so she was below. I like it better that way, I can control myself more. As I entered again, I begin to fuck her slowly and speed up the tempo for about 10 minutes or so, she came again, clutching me and moaning loudly.

I stopped for a break, kissing her mouth and her breasts. I slowly started moving again. I wondered if I would survive.

Well, I obviously did. But not before I came like a fire hose squirting my black seed deep within her blonde beauty.

She rolled me over, engulfing me with her Amazon frame, pushing her tongue into my mouth, nibbling my ears, clutching at me.

"Oh, baby, that was great! God, that was great! I don't know if we can ever do this again, but it was great!"

And after some time, when we'd both found our breath, and my brain had started to sluggishly function once more;

"What about your husband? Have you done this before?"


"How did you know he would go along with this?"

"I didn't."

"He doesn't have a gun or anything does he?"

She laughed; "No. He's a pacifist. He cheated on me once. I forgave him, but I told him. I told him one day that I would make him feel what it was like."

I felt hurt. "Is that's why you did this? For revenge?"

She laughed and said no, and kissed me.

"No. I don't know exactly why I wanted you, but it wasn't to hurt my husband. There's something sexy about you. I didn't notice at first, I just needed you to stay, for the baby. I admit that. But then, when we did it. oh baby, you really do it for me."

I left, feeling bad in some ways, great in others.

Then again, why should I feel sorry for big, handsome, Dr. Peters? He had cheated first, cheated on his voluptuous wife.

I was still amazed at how he took it, though.

She phoned me during the week;

"Hello Leon. It's Mrs. Peters calling."

As if from the first syllable I wouldn't recognize that deep, soft, sexy, voice.

"I was wondering if you could come over later. Perhaps you would care to eat with us again."

"I really appreciate the invitation Mrs. Peters, but I'm not sure that it's a good idea."

There was silence to on the line. She must have been more shocked than I was that my neocortex was working that day.

"Are you... are you sure, Leon?"

I wondered if anyone had ever refused Mrs. Peters anything.

"Yes, Mrs. Peters. I'm really flattered, but there are... ethical considerations."

My heartbeat had increased just talking to her. I wondered if I was a total fool as I put down the phone.

At about 5 PM, just as I was preparing to leave for home, she turned up in the flesh. Oh God, her exquisite flesh.

She had the child with her in a carriage. She was wearing a white dress that covered her nearly completely, yet left her completely sexy. It was hard to imagine an outfit that could hide her statuesque, curvaceous figure.

She was radiant, a woman made for mothering.

"Mrs. Peters! How can I help you?"

The look. She was giving me the look again. I might be able to deny her on the phone, but face-to-face, I was helpless.

"I want you, Leon. I don't know why, but I want you."

"Why, Mrs. Peters? Your husband is tall and handsome. I'm short and old. You have your child now, what do you want from me?"

She unlocked her eyes from mine, releasing me. She turned, staring out the window. I couldn't help but notice the beautiful round globes of her ass through her dress.

"It's fair question, Leon. I don't know exactly what I want from you. I want you to come home with me, and do to me what you did before. After that, I don't know."

The old neocortex was grinding to a halt.

"You're a married woman, Mrs. Peters. You have a new child. This is no time to put your relationship in jeopardy."

And I had a job that I didn't want to put in jeopardy.

"Don't worry about my marriage, Leon. And don't you think you should call me Jenny by now?"

She was standing close to me again. Too close. The office door was open.

"It's my job to worry about your marriage, Mrs. Peters."

I actually enjoyed calling her "Mrs. Peters". Aside from the fact that obviously wound her up a little, it somehow made everything even more twisted.

"My husband doesn't mind."

"Do you two have an open relationship?"


"You told me he cheated on you, and now you were even."

"I lied."

Her breath was in my throat again. She filled my vision; who would want to see anything else?

"Tell me." I said.

"When I told my husband how far I had gone to keep you waiting for him, it turned him on. He had hinted at such things before, but I didn't think he would really like it, me being with someone else. But he did. The fact that it was you really excites him."


"Because it's unimaginable that a man like you could turn me on. Unimaginable to my husband, I mean. My husband is a young white man, who can't imagine that all women are not only attracted to young white men. I think that's why. Or maybe he just doesn't feel threatened by you, that I might leave him or something I mean."

Her eyes had bored straight through my skull by then. Resistance was futile.

"We came into town on the train. Do you think you could drive us back home?"

We talked some more in the car. Drive, mainly. She wore no perfume, but her womanly scent was driving me mad.

"When will your husband come home?" I asked her as we neared her house.

"He's home now."

"I don't feel very comfortable knowing he's just upstairs. Couldn't we leave the baby with him, and go to a motel or something?"

"But he wants to watch."


"Can you handle it?"

"I'm not sure. This is pretty weird."

Her hand was on my knee. Stroking my leg through my trousers. Resistance was futile as my erection begins.

We ate dinner first. The baby had to be fed, changed, and put to bed. Thankfully, Dr. Peters did it, leaving me alone with his wife instead of the other way around.

"Let's go up to my bedroom." She said.

The look. Predatory determination. Lusts. Green eyes burning into my soul.

We were naked, petting on the bed when Dr. Peters entered the bedroom. He was hesitant, unconfident in his own home. Jane froze, in my arms, her hand circled my old thick black cock. I noticed, she couldn't really wrap her pale hands all around the thick bulbous head. I guess I froze too seeing Mr. Peters entered the bedroom. This was a first for all of us.

"Sit down, honey." She said to him.

He said in the chair close by. As Jenny spoke, her left hand continued to to move up and down my old black cock as to keep it ready. His eyes were glued to its magnificence, in his wife's white hand.

She stared at him strangely as she stroked my old black cock lovingly. Watching his reaction, curious to see if it was really true, if he could be turned on by something so strange.

I wasn't very happy with the situation, at first. But after awhile, it wasn't so bad. This guy had everything that I didn't; looks, youth, brains, money. But for this short time, I had his young beautiful wife. Tonight, whitey could envy my old big black dick.

"Does, um, does anybody have a condom?" I asked.

"No, baby." Mrs. Peters replied. "I don't like it with a condom. I like to feel it when you shoot it out."

How could any man refuse such a woman when she asks him for his seed?

I'm sorry to say it, but it just wasn't as good with him there. I tried to get into it, exhibitionism, cuckold husband, all that shit. But I really just wanted to screw Jenny. I think she got off on it though. I can't say she was more turned on than she had been the last time, but she was turned on.

The good doctor sat silently as his wife sucked my black cock, as I pushed it into her willing blonde cunt once again. She came twice, her white hands wandering over my black body, overtly enjoying not only my huge sexual black organ, but all of me.

When I was done, when I'd shot my load into her once more, she gently pushed me over onto my back next to her. She held her arms out to her husband, and I saw he was naked, his little white dick completely stiff.

He plowed into her with no preamble; he stuck it straight in and fucked her. As his white ass was pounding up and down, she held his head against her shoulder, and looked at me, a thinly smile on her face.

I didn't quite figure it out at the time, but I realized later that there was no desire in that smile. But she was happy, happy for him. Those poor rich people.

We got together several more times, but I wanted to move on in my life. I was looking for someone who I could live with, and that was hard to do while I was mired in this twisted sexual scene.

These encounters were pretty much like the last one that I've already described, but it did escalate a little. And I got more into it. I realized I started to like it, Dr. Peters watching us. I liked to watch his face as he stared at his wife giving me head. I started to kiss her and fondle her as soon as I came in their place, and hold her hand during dinner. That really wound him up. The last time we got together, Jenny even started taunting him;

"Look at this honey!" She said, holding my thick black dick, rubbing it against her face.

"Don't you think it's gorgeous? It's so big and thick and black. Do you want to see me suck on it, honey? Go on, you can say it. You want to see me suck on it, don't you? You like to watch me suck on this big old black dick."

His mouth moved, but I didn't hear any sound come out. Jane just giggled and went ahead anyway.

And when I was going down on her; "Oh baby, you're so good that! Honey, he's really good at this. I wish you were this good!"

And later on, before I entered her young cunt, she was rubbing my big black cock up and down against her entrance. She liked that.

"Do you want to see him push it in me, honey? I just love it when he pushes that big black thing inside of me. You want to see that, don't you? You love to see your wife getting fucked by an old virile black man, don't you honey?"

I have to admit it, sexually, it all turned me on like crazy. But at the same time, I knew this wasn't going to lead to something that would make me happy in the longer term.

I told them both that it had been great, and no hard feelings I hoped, but I had to call an end to it.

Jenny phoned me a couple of months later.

"There's something you should know."

"Say it."

"I'm pregnant."

"It often happens in cases like yours. Once there is a baby in the house, and the stress is off, lots of adoptive parents find themselves with a second baby."

"I believe I got pregnant the day before the baby arrived at this house."

I was invited to the new baby's christening about six months after that.

I wondered how they would explain her giving birth to a black baby. The adopted child was colored, no problem there. But giving birth to a colored child, well, I suppose they could tell everyone that the second child was also adopted.

I was pretty surprised when I saw the child at the church. He was lily white, blond, and blue-eyed.

I almost cried with laughter, and I wish that apparently happy family all the best from the bottom of my heart.

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