Sophia had always been the picture of poised beauty, long, wavy chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders, smoky eyeshadow framing those dark, expressive eyes, full lips curved in that knowing smile, and a body that filled out her clothes like a dream. At 32, she looked like sin wrapped in elegance. But behind that smile, frustration had been building for months.
She and David had been married for five years. He was a decent white guy kind, stable, average in every way, including the bedroom. They’d been trying to conceive for two solid years. Sophia’s doctor confirmed her eggs were perfect, ovulation regular, everything textbook. David swore his fertility test had come back fine, but he’d been weirdly evasive about showing her the results. Month after month, negative tests. Her suspicion had turned into quiet certainty: he wasn’t being honest. Maybe low count. Maybe he’d had a vasectomy years ago and never told her. Either way, she was done waiting.
That’s when she started noticing Marcus.
Her boss at the marketing firm was everything David wasn’t, 6’4”, broad-shouldered, deep ebony skin stretched over thick muscle, smooth shaved head, and a smile that made her thighs clench. He’d always been professional, but the lingering glances, the way his hand brushed her lower back during meetings, the low rumble of his voice when he said her name… Sophia had started fantasising. Filthy ones. About what a man like that could do to her. What he could put inside her.
Friday evening, she made her move.
David thought she was having “wine night with the girls.” He’d kissed her goodbye that morning, oblivious, heading to the office like usual. But Sophia had texted Marcus that afternoon: Husband’s out of town till tomorrow. Come over at 8? I need to… talk. Wear something easy to take off.
Marcus replied with a single 🔥.
At 7:45, David was actually home, parked two blocks away, then slipping in through the back door he’d left unlocked. He’d seen the text on her phone that morning while she showered. Suspicion, jealousy, and a sick, shameful arousal had him hiding in the walk-in closet of their master bedroom, door cracked just enough to see the bed and the mirrored vanity. His heart hammered. He told himself he’d confront them. He told himself he’d stop it. But his cock was already half-hard in his pants.
The doorbell rang at exactly 8.
Sophia answered in the same pink velvet top from her selfie, now paired with a tiny black skirt that barely covered the curve of her ass and thigh-high stockings. No bra. Her nipples were already stiff against the soft fabric. She’d freshened her makeup, glossy lips, and that seductive smile.
Marcus filled the doorway, dressed in a black button-down and slacks that did nothing to hide the thick outline already pressing against his thigh. “Damn, Sophia,” he growled, voice low and hungry. “You look like trouble.”
She stepped aside, letting him in, then closed the door and locked it. “Good. Because I am.”
They started slow, just like she’d wanted. In the living room, wine was poured but was barely touched. Marcus sat on the couch; she straddled his lap without hesitation, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. Her skirt rode up, flashing the lace edge of her panties.
“You’ve been teasing me for months,” she whispered against his mouth, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this.”
His big hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking the undersides of her breasts through the velvet. “Then stop pretending, baby.”
The first kiss was soft, testing. Lips brushing, then pressing. Then tongues, slow and wet, tasting red wine and heat. Sophia moaned into his mouth as his hands slid up, cupping her tits, squeezing gently, thumbs circling her nipples until they ached. She ground down against the massive bulge beneath her, feeling it throb and thicken.
David watched from the closet, breath shallow. His wife’s ass looked so small in Marcus’s huge hands. The contrast, her pale skin against his dark fingers, made David’s stomach twist and his cock twitch traitorously.
They moved to the bedroom after ten minutes of making out like teenagers, clothes still on, hands roaming. Sophia led Marcus by the hand, hips swaying. She pushed him onto the edge of the bed and stood between his spread thighs, slowly peeling the pink top over her head. Her breasts spilled free, heavy, round, nipples dark and stiff. Marcus groaned, leaning forward to suck one into his mouth, tongue swirling.
“Fuck, these are perfect,” he murmured, switching to the other, sucking harder. Sophia’s head fell back, fingers threading through his short hair.
David’s hand was inside his pants now, stroking slowly, hating himself.
Sophia dropped to her knees. “I want to see it.” Her voice was husky, needy. She unbuckled his belt, tugged his slacks down. His cock sprang free, thick, veiny, at least nine inches, the head already glistening. Much bigger than David’s. Darker. Heavier.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed, wrapping both hands around it. They didn’t even meet. She stroked slowly, mesmerised, then leaned in and dragged her tongue from base to tip, tasting salt and man. Marcus groaned, one hand gentle on the back of her head.
She took him into her mouth, slow, savouring, lips stretching wide. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room as she bobbed, taking more each time, gagging softly when he hit the back of her throat. Spit dripped down her chin onto her tits.
David was leaking pre-cum, stroking faster, eyes glued to his wife worshipping a superior cock.
After five minutes of her sloppy, enthusiastic blowjob, Marcus pulled her up, kissing her messy mouth. “Bed. Now.”
They stripped the rest of the way. Sophia’s skirt and panties hit the floor; her stockings stayed on. Marcus lay her on her back, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was shaved smooth, already soaked, lips puffy and glistening.
He ate her like a starving man, long, slow licks from ass to clit, then sucking her swollen nub while two thick fingers curled inside her, stroking her G-spot. Sophia writhed, moaning loud enough to echo. “Oh fuck…Marcus…yes, right there…”
David almost came just from the sounds.
She came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping his head, back arching, crying out his name.
Only then did Marcus climb up, cock in hand, rubbing the fat head up and down her slit. “You sure about this, baby? Once I’m inside you raw, I’m breeding this married pussy.”
Sophia looked straight toward the closet, she’d suspected David was there the whole time, the little perv; and smiled that same seductive smile from the photo. “I’m sure. Fill me.”
That’s when David’s foot accidentally knocked over a shoebox.
Marcus’s head snapped up. Sophia laughed softly. “Come out, David. We know you’re there.”
David froze. Heart pounding. Cock still in his hand.
Marcus smirked. “Your wife invited me to put a baby in her. The least you can do is watch how it’s done.”
Shame burned through David, but he stepped out, pants around his ankles, pathetic little dick hard and leaking. Sophia beckoned him to the chair beside the bed. “Sit. Hands on the armrests. Don’t touch yourself unless I say.”
He obeyed, face red.
Marcus didn’t waste time. He pushed Sophia’s knees to her chest and slid in, slow, inch by thick inch, stretching her open in a way David never could. She gasped, eyes rolling back. “Fuuuuck… so big…”
He bottomed out, balls deep, her pussy lips stretched tight around the base. Then he started thrusting, deep, deliberate strokes that made her tits bounce. The wet slap of skin filled the room. Sophia’s moans turned filthy.
“Harder…fuck me like my husband never could…give me that black cock…”
Marcus obliged, pounding her missionary until she came again, squirting around him.
He flipped her to all fours. Doggy style, ass up, face down. He gripped her hips and railed her, balls slapping her clit. Sophia screamed into the pillow, pushing back. “Yes…breed me…knock me up…”
David watched every thrust, watched her pussy cream on that massive black shaft, watched it disappear and reappear shiny with her juices.
Marcus pulled out, flipped her onto her back again, then straddled her chest. “Suck it clean.” She did, eager, messy, tasting herself.
Then reverse cowgirl, facing David so he could see everything. She rode Marcus hard, ass rippling, tits bouncing, one hand rubbing her clit. “Look at me, baby,” she panted to her husband. “Watch a real man ruin me for you.”
David whimpered.
Marcus sat up, wrapped one arm around her waist, and fucked up into her brutally until she shattered again.
Finally, he put her on her back one last time, legs over his shoulders, folding her in half. Prone, deep, mating press. His thrusts turned savage, short, powerful strokes that battered her cervix.
“I’m gonna cum,” he growled. “Gonna flood this womb.”
Sophia locked eyes with David. “Do it. Dump it all in me.”
Marcus roared, burying himself to the hilt. His cock pulsed visibly, thick ropes of cum erupting straight into her fertile depths, load after load, so much it overflowed around his shaft, creamy white mixed with her juices. He kept grinding, pushing it deeper, milking every drop.
Sophia came one final time, milking him, whispering, “Yes… Give me your baby…”
They stayed locked together for long minutes, kissing lazily while his cock softened inside her. David sat there, spent, having cum untouched just from watching.
Six weeks later, Sophia stood in the same bedroom, holding a positive pregnancy test. She was glowing, tits already a little fuller, that same seductive smile on her face.
She showed it to David first, then sent a photo to Marcus.
“Looks like it worked,” she purred, rubbing her still-flat belly. “My black boss’s fattest load did what your little white dick never could.”
David stared, cock twitching again in his pants.
Sophia leaned in, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Don’t worry, honey. You get to watch every step of the pregnancy too.”
