BBC Consumes Our Life!

Author's caution: Interracial cuckolding, with humiliation, public exhibition, breeding, and explicit bisexuality. The husband sucks, cleans, and serves. Skip it if any of that is not for you. Negative comments will be deleted. If you think you can do better, write your own story and invite me to it in the comments--I'll be pleased to read it.

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I'm writing this for you all in Literotica mainly so that I never forget it.

I'm Ed. My fiancée is Samantha.

I had long had an interracial porn fetish, including all kinds of fantasies, but mostly involving big black cocks and white women--and including progressively more extreme cuckolding fantasies. The biggest turn on for me was when a white couple ended up with the girlfriend, fiancée, or wife becoming completely black only and even black owned.

Of course this wasn't something I could just spring on Samantha early in our relationship. I waited until we'd been together three years--and engaged for several months--before I brought it up.

I waited until after one evening when I noticed her eying a handsome black guy at a tennis match we'd attended.

Soon after that, I took the bold leap of seeing if she had any interest in porn. To my delighted amazement, she shyly admitted she did--but she was too shy to admit what kind. She agreed that I could rent some for us to enjoy together and "see how it goes."

I started small. Some basic white-on-white porn, and with simple, gentle plots that seemed non-threatening to me. She did get a little turned on, and so did I, and our sex improved a bit.

From there, I gradually took some more chances. For instance, finding some group sex and swinging videos for us to enjoy. We both liked those two.

Eventually, as I had long intended, I showed her interracial porn. Wow, did this light her up!

I never knew or imagined that my shy fiancée could even get so horny!

It was impossible for her to hide the much greater effect the interracial porn had on her, so we started opening up about our fantasies.

I soon admitted that I had long been fascinated by giant black cocks together with white women, and even by the cuckolding kink, including humiliation and "black ownership."

Samantha did a little reading and then even confessed to me that the whole idea of becoming black only and black owned is a turn on for her--even while maintaining a white guy cuckold to watch, dote on her, and even become her cuckold husband.

To us, "black owned" means total submission. Not just sex, but complete control over our lives by a Black person or group--for us, we'd want it to be a man, a master. It's the "next level" beyond "black only"--it's absolute ownership.

We laughed and joked about how compatible our fantasies are and whether somehow we sensed this unconsciously when we started dating and then fell in love--as improbable as that could be.

After that, "black only" and "black owned" became regular parts of our dirty talk. Samantha started saying it more and more.

"I want to be black only," she'd whisper while we fucked. "I want to be black owned." Every time she said it, my little dick would twitch. She noticed. Before long, she was saying it even when we weren't having sex--just casually, like she was already getting used to the idea of being black owned.

I'd ask her as much. "Are you getting ready for the real thing?" I might say. Or, "Sounds like you're coaching yourself to go for it."

She'd reply, "Maybe I am." Or, "Could be!"

Samantha also teased me that I could never handle it in real life--and I teased her back that she would probably just faint from fear in the presence of a real big black cock.

It was terrific fodder for our love life and for us kidding around and growing closer.

Who knew if Samantha would ever try a BBC, much less ever become black only or black owned? Even so, it was great to have this added dimension to our love life together.

In addition to having a compatible fantasy life, Samantha is the so-called "total package" all around, and I was over the moon that she had agreed to become my wife.

Samantha--who never went by "Sam" as it was much too masculine for her--was a little on the tall side for me. Her 5'9" nearly matching my 5'11". But she was so smart, fun, and gorgeous, I was okay with this one "imperfection," so to speak.

Also, despite her height, Samantha was still kind of a petite girl, just with really long legs, beautiful double-D-cup breasts, and deliciously wide hips.

Her flowing blonde curls are fabulous, as are her blue eyes, button nose, and sweet smile.

She has feminine petite shoulders, a small waist, nice ample hips for welcoming a fellow in, and a sweet, medium-sized bubble butt with a goddess-like blend of muscle and fat.

My fiancée's measurements are in the neighborhood of 34DD-25-37. Stellar. A perfect feminine form.

It was not hard to visualize Samantha taking on a perfectly formed big black Adonis--with a commensurately gorgeous, enormous big black cock--especially with those generous hips of hers.

Despite being gorgeous, Samantha still has a shy side to her, and is usually a quiet girl.

Samantha's arrival in my life also helped put to rest the ghost of my first love, Emily--a super cute, more bookish petite blonde woman who, like Samantha, also was a generous and skilled lover.

Emily and I had broken up only a couple of years prior to my meeting Samantha, and I had a nagging, humiliating sense that perhaps my shortcomings--I am handsome but I have only a thin five-inch dick--were a major reason.

My first love was far too kind a person to have ever said so, of course. But I had a nagging sense.

Then here I was several years later, with Samantha, and I felt like I was marrying up, so I felt better about things--even if my insecurities did also serve to fuel my sexual fantasy life.

Samantha's and my wedding date was set for a year away, when the events of this journal entry began to unfold.

My fiancée and I were both twenty-eight years old. "I want to be married by thirty," Samantha had said to me as we talked about plans and dates. "It's always been important to me."

I felt like I was marrying incredibly well, so I wasn't about to argue. The date was set for the same month Samantha turned twenty-nine.

In our public life--with our family and friends--we focused on wedding planning, honeymoon planning, and all the usual couples' socializing. Meanwhile, our sex life kept orbiting more and more around our black only and black ownership fantasies. Indeed, our shared daydreams of being owned by an alpha black Adonis with a humongous black cock came to dominate every single lovemaking session we had.

We did eventually progress from fantasizing about Samantha being with a BBC and interracial porn to my using a big black dildo on her.

I bought one, and one day when she was especially amorous after some porn, I took a chance bringing it out of my dresser. She squealed in excitement and fear both, and at first said no. But after I got her to play with it for a few minutes in her hands, and reminded her that I would go as slow as she wanted me to with it, she relented.

The dildo was modeled after the porn star Mandingo, whom Samantha had seemed to really enjoy watching in action. To our shared amazement, she got it about half way in on the first thrust.

After about ten minutes, I had the dildo three quarters of the way in, and my fiancée had orgasmed twice!

Another five minutes, and Samantha had the dildo balls deep and was thrashing her way to a third screaming and screeching orgasm--the biggest I had ever seen her, or anyone, have in person! She even went limp afterwards and drooled out of the side of her mouth.

I don't think I'll ever forget the contented, fully-sated look I saw on her for the first time that night--but since have seen often repeated.

Needless to say, that Mandingo dildo became a regular fixture in our life together.

Within a few weeks, Samantha barely fucked me at all. She teased me--or maybe she was serious, looking back now--that I should get used to only getting hand jobs or being made to masturbate.

In fact, it seemed to especially turn us both on if she would refuse me any touching, and I would have to beat off in front of her--but only after I had used her big dildo, "Max," on her.

Once a month, my fiancée would still fuck me. "Just to maintain our bond," she said.

Maybe half a year passed in this routine for us. Very little fucking between us, and my gorgeous fiancée enjoying her giant black dildo "Max" several times a week. I think part of me hoped things would stay like this, while another part knew it was unlikely--and I even fantasized about things progressing.

Then, on a Saturday several months ago, we were at a house party being thrown by a college pal of mine, Roy. He's a nice guy, though not someone I happened to be super close with. The key events started a couple of hours into the party. It was progressing as a fun evening so far for both Samantha and me, and at times we were each mingling separately. I'm an extrovert and not insecure, so it worked for me. Samantha enjoyed a little extra male attention now and again.

Still, I was surprised when Samantha came up to me and pulled me aside. "Ed," she said, "I met the most interesting guy. Ramon. You see him over in that corner--the tall black guy?"

I nodded in confirmation, giving Samantha a chance to continue.

"We were dancing and flirting a bit just now, and he brazenly put my hand on his privates before I pulled away to come over here."

"Go on," I told her.

"It was hard and HUGE, Ed! I couldn't believe it! Just like we've been fantasizing about! And he's a pretty nice guy, to boot." Samantha added.

Well, I knew Ramon. He was not and is not a particularly nice guy.

Ramon and I went to high school together, and he came to the same college for a year before transferring. In fact, Ramon is pretty much just an ordinary guy--who likes to get laid, especially by gorgeous women like my fiancée. Like all of us, he'll do his best to give the impression of "niceness" when it seems useful. I could hardly fault him. I do the same!

I explained this to Samantha and she looked a little disappointed... until, that is, I added, "But, he's also not a bad guy. And we might as well get you black fucked--and maybe even black owned--by a decent enough guy, whom I've known a long time. Why don't you tell him about how we are thinking about getting ourselves on a 'certain' sexual path, and see if he'd like to go back to your place with us tonight?"

"Are you sure, Boo?" she asked. "There'll be no turning back from this."

"One hundred percent sure," I offered. "I don't think our pull to big black cock is something we'll be able to resist forever. Maybe it's a sign that Ramon is here tonight."

Samantha gave a small squeal of excitement, a little jump, and kissed me with a quick peck. "I agree, Boo. I totally agree. Terrific!" she exclaimed. "I'll be back!"

She practically ran back over to Ramon and pulled him abruptly from some people he was chatting with. They talked together for several minutes while I watched from across the room. Ramon was facing me. He kept nodding at Samantha and smiling, occasionally touching her face or arm, or holding her hand. He glanced in my direction perhaps once.

Like when we were younger, Ramon is still not much to look at, besides being big, black, and built. He has an incredible well-muscled physique on his 6'2" frame.

His face is a bit misshapen--some might think him ugly even. But he can have a certain charm, and Samantha seemed enthralled. Her posture and gaze did not once wander from being focused completely on Ramon.

After several minutes, Ramon led my fiancée to sit down with him on a sofa. Perhaps strategically chosen so I could easily watch from across the room.

They chatted for but another minute before Ramon pulled Samantha's head close to his and he started French kissing her.

She eagerly returned his kisses, using one hand to caress his head and another his body.

They proceeded to make out for what felt to me like a week but realistically was probably half an hour, max.

Several people seemed to notice.

Some stared.

I'm sure some remembered that Samantha had come to the party with me, her white fiancé.

Samantha's actions proved that she certainly didn't care if I might feel humiliated. But I'm sure she knew this would turn me on. I'd certainly been clear enough with my blessing.

Their making out gradually got more daring.

Ramon started with caressing Samantha's breasts, first through her shirt and then up underneath it.

A few minutes after that, he had a hand up my fiancée's skirt and was obviously playing with her pussy.

Samantha stroked Ramon's cock through his pants initially and then later through his unzipped fly.

They started taking more breaks from frenching to whisper to each other, and finally they got up in tandem from the sofa and walked straight to me.

"Hey, Ed," Ramon started. "Nice to see you, man. I want to thank you for introducing Samantha to interracial and getting her ready to go black. Way to go, man!" And he slapped me on the shoulder with a friendly smile.

Samantha spoke next. "Ed, Boo," she said. "I'm guessing you've enjoyed watching Ramon and me get started. I'm so glad! Look at your cute little boner in your pants, and you're all flushed!"

She leaned over and gave my hard-on a playful little poke.

"As you can tell, I'm at last ready to go black for real. I'm so glad we met Ramon! He's quite dominant, and he says that if I want to fuck him--and I do--it's got to be within the next few minutes, before we leave the party. There's a bedroom in the back that we can borrow, and we intend to! I'm allowed to give you a kiss goodbye now, but that's going to be your last kiss on the mouth so long as Ramon and I are involved with each other at all. He's instructed me on this. I really want him and am not inclined to quibble--since being denied will probably turn you on anyway!"

I'm sure I looked dumbfounded while I listened slack-jawed and speechless as my fiancée continued to explain.

"I'm no longer going to be touching you sexually at all, Ed," she added. "I suppose I might feel bad for you, but I am pretty clear that this will play right into your fantasies, my love!"

"Conditions, cucky." Ramon was all business now. "Call me 'Master' and honor me as such. Disobey and you'll be punished. You'll suck my cock, clean me, take it in the ass if I want. Try to make her choose, and you'll lose. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir... Master Ramon."

"Good. Now your fiancée has more."

"I'm his seventh," Samantha said. "None went back to white. I'll pledge myself to black only tonight--maybe within minutes of his first fucking me. You'll be his cock slave: sucking, cleaning, taking it in your ass--whatever he wants. And yes, I'll still marry you. Celibate, of course. You'll watch him breed me when he's ready, raise the baby as yours."

My fiancée took a brief pause for me to absorb all of that, and then poked my rock hard little dick again with a giggle.

"Ha!" she chortled. "Still hard! Even harder, I think! I'm not surprised!"

Then, Samantha added. "To continue to lay things out for you... For the past couple of years, Ramon's been doing this with the boyfriends or husbands, making them his cock slaves, and all the cucks want now is to watch the white women get fucked or to suck black cock themselves. One guy also begs to get ass fucked. Even if you offer the cucks pussy instead, they'll go for the big black cock... So you should be ready to get turned gay. I can see from your bigger than ever tent in your pants that this turns you on. Excellent, cucky!"

I let out an involuntary groan. This was all so exciting to me!

"Oh, and I will marry you," Samantha said. "Celibate, of course. You'll watch Ramon breed me when he's ready--explode into my fertile pussy, knock me up. He and any other black owners decide how many I'll have. Not me--and certainly not you. You'll be praying for occasional cleaning privileges for your tongue, and that'll be it."

Samantha never mentioned her big black dildo. Maybe she didn't want Ramon to hear about it.

"None of this is personal, Ed," Ramon added. "Except if I didn't find you a nice guy, I wouldn't want you ever sucking my dick. It's that Samantha turns me on, and this is what I do with white girls this hot--and their cuckies. Welcome to the rest of your life. Do you have any questions, faggot?"

"No Master, Sir Master Ramon," I stammered out sheepishly.

"Here's your goodbye kiss, then, Boo!" Samantha said next. And she gave me a short and only modestly sensuous kiss on the lips.

"Oh... And next, you have to take Ramon's cock out here in this corner of the party room and suck on it for ninety seconds-- and lovingly... Since Black cock is the only thing you'll be kissing from now on, you have to prove to us that you can do that!"

I was dumbfounded but knew I needed to obey.

I was petrified and afraid to move a muscle for a moment, but after a beat I managed to sink to my knees.

Ramon's fly was unzipped. However, his huge cock could not make it through the fly.

He boomed from above me, "This cock isn't going to free itself, boy. Undo my pants, faggot."

As soon as I did, and Ramon's giant black cock stared me in the face, I understood why Samantha and I were going to *both* be under this spell.

His cock was amazing. It was simply the most gorgeous, strongest, sexiest, and most arousing piece of human anatomy I could imagine.

About eleven inches straight. Perfectly consistent thickness the whole length.

As hard as a steel rod, with just a veneer of softness.

Dark chocolate colored, with maybe a tinge of purple at the tip of his plum-sized glans.

Pre-cum was already dripping, presumably from their make-out session.

His balls were each nearly the size of a plump lemon.

It all looked delicious. I was salivating.

No one had to pull me toward it. I scooted forward on my knees, opened my mouth as wide as possible, and leaned into it.

Samantha watched with a wry smile. "Look at you," she said softly. "Already on your knees for Black cock. My little faggot cucky."

I was immediately in love! If I had known sucking a big black cock would be so satisfying to me, I would have started years ago.

Who knew? I guess Samantha and Ramon did. I sucked, kissed, licked.

I was thrilled to think that this marvelous man meat might be in my life routinely. I hoped Ramon was gayer than he let on!

I guess ninety seconds flew by because soon Ramon pulled me to my feet and put his cock away.

"Decent work for a beginner, faggot," Ramon said.

Samantha giggled. "Cucky's got quite the wet spot on his pants! Oh, he liked that *big* time!"

"Yes. Certainly looks like he found his new love!" Ramon concurred with my fiancée.

Then he turned to me. "But there will be lots more time for that later, faggot... Now, I'm going to take Samantha's true virginity... You may wait outside the door and listen. I will call for you if I decide I would like your assistance... Oh, and no beating off unless and until I say so. Don't even touch your little faggot clit!"

He took my fiancée's hand and they left me for the bedroom. Left me and my rock hard little dicklet--which he had poignantly newly named my "little faggot clit."

The verbiage cut me and aroused me, both. Fuck, that's apt, I realized! My dicklet *is* like a clit! It's basically just good for my own pleasure!

The new terminology echoed in my brain: Faggot clit. Faggot clit. Yes, I had a faggot clit! How utterly sublime.

My faggot clit twitched and oozed precum as I watched them slowly walk the long hallway from the living room to the available bedroom.

They looked amazing together, as Ramon quietly led the way. He, the alpha black bull. She, the pinnacle of the ivory female form.

They looked like a God and Goddess.

Once they reached that bedroom, there would be no stopping them. My sex life with my amazing fiancée would be forever, indelibly transformed.

Samantha did not so much as glance back at me.

Ramon opened the door slowly, gave me a mild nod of acknowledgment, and led my future wife inside. She, on the other hand, only looked forward. Not even a quick moment of recognition in my direction.

My Samantha was as good as his now. I could feel it in my bones.

Once they were inside, I approached and sat just outside the door. I kept guard of sorts, but who are we kidding, my real reason to move there was to listen, was to hear my sublime defeat as a man.

The door was thick and the carpeting must have been as well. At first, all I could hear were muffled sounds.

After a few minutes, a high-pitched gasp pierced the door. It could only be my fiancée.

It wasn't a soft gasp. It was the enormity of his eleven inches hitting her for real.

I couldn't tell if Samantha was holding his monster cock, stroking it, sucking it, or maybe even taking it straight into her pussy. I pictured "all of the above."

Soon followed Ramon's low, triumphant laugh.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat for my own submission.

I leaned against the cool wall, my hands clasped behind my back to obey his order not to touch myself. The ache in my groin was a constant, throbbing reminder of my place and how much it aroused me.

Then began the rhythmic creaking of the bed springs--a steady, determined cadence.

Samantha's moans were different from the ones I coaxed from her with "Max." These were raw, almost pained, but layered with a deep, guttural pleasure I'd never heard from her before.

My fiancée grew louder, more frantic, with her screams punctuated by Ramon's grunts and the resonant, wet slap of flesh meeting flesh.

"Oh, God! Yes! Fuck me!" Samantha cried out, her voice cracking. "It's so much better! So much bigger!"

I closed my eyes, picturing it.

Ramon's magnificent cock, the one I'd just tasted, splitting my fiancée open, claiming her.

The thought made my own pathetic erection strain against my pants.

I felt a mix of crushing humiliation and electrifying arousal.

This was it. The fantasy was realized.

My shy, beautiful Samantha was being truly blacked in the next room, and I was the faggot cucky, listening at the door like a good little boy.

Her first orgasm was unmistakable.

A high-pitched scream that was one part agony but one hundred parts ecstasy, followed by a long, shuddering wail.

It went on and on, and I could hear Ramon's voice, low and commanding. "That's it, bitch. Take it all. You're mine now. Say it."

"Yours!" she sobbed. "I'm yours, Master! I'm yours only--and I'm black only! BLACK. ONLY. FOR. GOOD!"

The words hit me like a physical blow. It was done. The vow was sworn. A tear slid down my cheek, but my little boi clit was harder than ever.

The sounds continued for what felt like an eternity.

Ramon was relentless.

I heard them shift positions, and Samantha's cries changed in pitch but scarcely in intensity.

He was using her in every way imaginable. And she was loving every second of it.

I heard her beg for more, beg him not to stop, call him her God, her master, her owner.

The creaking slowed, then stopped, and there was a moment of silence, broken only by their heavy breathing.

Then, the door swung open.

Ramon stood there, a sheen of sweat on his chest, his massive cock hanging semi-erect, glistening with their combined fluids.

He looked down at me, a smirk on his face. "You're needed now, faggot."

I scrambled into the room.

Samantha was on the bed, a complete mess.

Her blonde hair was plastered to her face with sweat, her makeup was smeared, and she had a vacant, blissed-out expression I'd only seen once before, after her first time with the dildo.

But this was a thousand times more intense.

My fiancée's pussy was red, swollen, and gaping, with a thick river of Ramon's cum leaking out onto the sheets.

"Look what you did, cucky," Ramon said, pointing at her well-fucked cunt. "You brought this fine woman to me, to own and sully. Now you have a responsibility. Clean her up. Every drop."

I didn't hesitate.

I crawled onto the bed between her legs.

The smell was potent--the musky scent of Ramon, the tang of Samantha's arousal, and the salty, bleach-like smell of his seed.

I lowered my head and extended my tongue.

The taste was electric.

It was submission, it was degradation. And it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.

I lapped at her folds, sucking Ramon's cum from her body, swallowing it down.

Samantha moaned softly, her hand coming to rest on my head, holding me in place.

"Good boy," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Drink your Master's cum."

When I was done, Ramon grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. "Now me," he ordered, pointing his still-halfway-hard cock at my face. "Get me hard for round two."

I eagerly took him into my mouth again, this time tasting the distinct flavor of Samantha's pussy on his shaft.

I sucked with a newfound devotion, my tongue swirling around his plum-sized head, trying to please him, trying to worship him.

He grew in my mouth, hardening to that incredible, rigid state until he was once again an eleven-inch spear of dominance.

"Enough," he grunted, pushing me away.

He turned back to my fiancée, who had propped herself up on her elbows, watching us with hungry eyes.

"On your hands and knees, slut. Time to take it from behind."

Samantha eagerly flipped over, presenting her perfect ass to him.

She'd never let me fuck her from behind--said it was too degrading. For Ramon, my delectable fiancée didn't even hesitate, never mind object.

Ramon lined up his cock and plunged back into her with one assertive stroke.

Samantha shrieked in ecstasy. He grabbed her hips and began to pound her, his balls slapping against her clit with each powerful thrust.

He looked over at me, still kneeling on the bed.

"You," he said, nodding towards Samantha's face. "Get over there and let her hold your thingie. Let her feel your little clit while a real man fucks her."

I scrambled to comply, moving to the head of the bed.

Samantha grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight, her knuckles white as Ramon jackhammered her from behind.

With her other hand, she reached back and fumbled with my pants, finally pulling my rock-hard little boi clit out. She wrapped her fingers around it and giggled.

"It's so cute, Boo," she panted between thrusts. "So... little. Such a perfect little faggot clit. Like a toy, even. I'm never going to feel this inside me again. You're going to be my celibate husband."

The humiliation was absolute, and I was in heaven.

I leaned in and kissed her cheek, then her forehead, anywhere but her mouth, as instructed.

I was just an accessory, a symbol of the old life she was leaving behind for her new Black Master.

Ramon's pace quickened, his breathing becoming ragged. "I'm gonna breed this white pussy," he growled. "Knock you up good, girl."

"Yes! Please, Master! Breed me!" Samantha screamed, her body convulsing in another massive orgasm.

With a final, guttural roar, Ramon buried himself to the hilt and emptied his balls deep inside her.

I watched his ass clench as he pumped her full of his seed. He stayed there for a long moment, then slowly pulled out, his cock still dripping.

He pointed at her pussy again. "You know what to do, faggot."

I crawled back between her legs and performed my duty a second time, cleaning her freshly-fucked hole.

When I was finished, Ramon was already getting dressed.

Samantha lay curled up on the bed, a contented smile on her face, already looking like his possession.

"Get her cleaned up and dressed," Ramon ordered me, tossing me his t-shirt. "She can wear that. We're going back to my place. From now on, she sleeps where I sleep."

Samantha and I didn't live together. She didn't think it was "appropriate" until we are actually married. We had each other's keys, but we still didn't share a place.

But if Samantha objected to Ramon's assertion that she would be continuously co-habiting with him, she didn't say anything.

She was dazed. Like she was high. High from being incredibly well-fucked, apparently.

"But, Sir!" I interjected.

"Oh," Ramon responded. "You're probably wanting some release. You can beat off when you get back to your apartment."

"Thank you, Sir. But that isn't the only question."

"Get on with it then, loser!" Ramon barked.

"Her pill," I explained. "She needs her pill, which is at her place."

"Correction, loser," Ramon said. "She needs her pill--for now."

"Yes, Sir... for now."

"Good, faggot. Best you have the idea... You can bring the pack by in the morning. Good suggestion, faggot."

"Thank you, Sir."

He looked at Samantha, then back at me. "Welcome to the rest of your life, cucky. You wanted to be black owned? You got it."

It was two weeks before my fiancée had any free time to spend with me.

In the interim, Ramon had allowed her to call me so I could listen in as they fucked. And he even sliced together some video of the two of them making love and fucking and sent it to me.

It was incredible to see.

I had never seen my fiancée look more aroused--nor more in love! And she professed her love to her new master again and again as they made love.

"Oh, Ramon!" she'd say, "I love you so much! You're so incredible inside me! Never stop fucking me! I love you! I love your cock! Please be my lover forever!"

He'd respond, "We'll see, bitch. I doubt this is forever, but we'll see."

My fiancée would shriek out cum after cum.

Her orgasmic shrieks were a thousand times anything I ever heard out of her during sex. Maybe a million times, even.

Finally, after two weeks, Ramon gave her an evening off, and Samantha and I met up for drinks.

"Boo, I have something big to tell you," she said.

"What's that my Love?" I asked. I was still head over heels for Samantha--notwithstanding her love for another.

"I've decided something big."

"Okay. And?"

"I am planning on having Ramon's baby soon."

I spit out the beer I was drinking, all over the little bar table between us. It was embarrassing, even if it was understandable.

"Oh? But what about graduate school? What about your professional plans?"

"I think my parents will help raise a baby, so long as I present it the right way... And it's something... Well, I just feel incredibly drawn to do this... I love him, and he feels so incredible when we make love, and well, he gave me an ultimatum, as well."

"An ultimatum?"

"Yeah... He told me that either I let him breed me, or he's going to dump me, move on to the next cute white girl."

"That bastard!"

"Oh, I'm not sure if I mind, Boo! I think it's just an extra little nudge for me."

"Just an extra little nudge?"

"Yeah, you see I'm *craving* it! I *want* him to breed me! I want to give him a baby!"

"So why are you telling me all this, Samantha? What do I have to do with it?"

"Well, you see, we both want you to stay my cucky."

"What?!? I thought that was just cheap talk at the beginning."

"No, it wasn't. Ramon. Me. We want you in my life, in our life. To help look after the baby. To help pay for things... And, well, because it turns us both on to have you in a cucky role."

"Oh..." I responded, modestly. "I see... So you *do* still want to get married?"

"Yes, very much so, Boo! I want you to be my celibate cucky hubby... I'd love for you to do it... I want to share our lives... I still love you, Boo... It's only black cock that I prefer over you... Will you still marry me, Boo? I can tell you *LOVE* the orgasms you have listening in! And those will end unless you support this decision and become my celibate cucky husband!"

I paused. Took a beat. Took a few breaths.

"So if I support this decision, things otherwise continue as they are? And we still get married?"

"Yes, Boo!"

"Is there anything else to tell me about this?"

"Well... Just one other thing that Ramon made me agree to."

"Yeah, well what's that?"

"You have to give me away for breeding at a big party. He wants to breed me in front of a big party of his friends. And you need to be there. To give me away."

"Just to give you away?"

"Well, to give me away... and to help me serve the other black cocks, too."

"I see."

"But you love sucking Ramon's BBC, Boo... I think you'll really love sucking BBC in a group event, too."

I wasn't so sure. Or I didn't think so, at least.

But my little dicklet. My little faggot clit. It had other ideas. My clit was rock hard in my pants and oozing precum.

Samantha noticed.

"I see you're tented, Boo," she observed. "That's excellent! I guess that settles it then... We're going to let Ramon breed me at a big party, right?"

My fiancée--my Mistress--was certainly "leading the witness." But I wasn't protesting.

"Yeah... It apparently is a big turn on, Boo!"

"I see you even have a wet spot on your pants now, Edward!" Samantha said. "*CLEARLY* this turns you on!"

"I suppose it does... I suppose it does... So when is this party supposed to be?"

"Not for a little while, Ramon says," my gorgeous fiancée explained. "Ramon has a busy work and social calendar for us for the next month."

A few weeks after that first night with Ramon, he started taking Samantha to bigger, fancier parties. I was only included occasionally, and always as her "little faggot cuckold" on a literal leash.

But Ramon--well, he ought to have moved faster to breed my fiancée. He thought he had all the time in the world, I guess. That turned out to be mistaken.

Before he got his breeding party together, my Samantha came to my apartment after another social event with him--where I'd been left at home--buzzing with energy.

"Boo, I have something really big to tell you," she said, her eyes wide.

"Bigger than your plans to get bred by Ramon?" I asked.

"Yes," my fiancée responded with a happy lilt in her voice. "Definitely."

"Go on then."

"I met someone. His name is Caesar." She said it like it was of supreme significance. "He's... different. He's... he's even more intense than Ramon... More handsome, too."

My stomach tightened. "More 'intense'? How so?"

"He watched me all night. Didn't even talk to me until the end. And when he did, it was like he already owned me. He told Ramon he wanted to breed me. He laid it out right then and there, on the spot." She bit her lip, and then a small, excited smile played on her lips.

"I got so excited when he said it out loud--that such a charismatic BBC Adonis should want to claim me like that! The very first time he met me! It'll be part of some business deal between him and Ramon. And he wants to do it in front of his friends. At a party. A big one."

"And what did you say?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

"I said yes, Boo. Obviously."

She hadn't even slept on it.

Nor felt any need to confer with me.

She was thoroughly black owned, I then remembered. She didn't need my permission.

"And he knows about you, too. He knows you're my cucky. He told Ramon you'll be there to 'give me away' to him." She looked at me, her eyes gleaming. "He said you'll have to help serve his friends, too. What do you think about that, my little faggot?"

My little dicklet, my faggot clit, oozed precum, and a wet spot spread across my crotch. My fiancée saw it and giggled. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

Just a week later, it was time for the party. It was a warm September Saturday.

Ramon drove us to this house I'd never seen before--bigger than Roy's, set back from the road, already loud with music and voices.

Samantha wore a really cute outfit: white tank top and a denim skirt, with lace bra and panties underneath. She looked incredible. On a par with any girl I'd ever seen in a Playboy magazine, that was for sure.

I was on my leash to begin with, as required for all social occasions with Ramon. Apparently, the same would apply with Caesar.

Neither Ramon nor Samantha had told me very much about who would be there. "Caesar and his buddies," was all that I had heard.

Inside, the lights were low. Maybe twenty people, mostly black men, some with women, most of whom were white. I recognized no one.

Ramon took my coat at the door and made me take my shirt, pants, shoes, and socks off, right there in the entryway, in front of everyone. Quickly I was stripped down to my tight pink panties that Ramon had been making me wear for weeks now.

He handed me a short, tight t-shirt that read "Faggot BBC Cucky" on the front and "Tiny-Clit Cucky" on the back. "Put this on, too," Ramon ordered. "The t-shirt will let everyone know exactly what your role is here today." And my panties will complement the message, I thought to myself.

He stepped back and let the room look.

I was super excited to watch my Samantha get black bred. Being dressed to humiliate me didn't diminish my excitement. It only enhanced it. My little faggot clit got hard, and immediately my precum was flowing.

"Wow, you are pathetic!" my fiancée remarked. "This *really* turns you on! How incredibly pathetic and sad!"

I turned my eyes down in shame, but my hardon did not subside. It just oozed more and more precum.

Then Caesar led me by my leash onto a platform in the center of the living room so that everyone could get a look.

He stepped up onto the platform beside me but didn't say anything at first. He just looked me over slowly, his eyes moving from my face down to my crotch. A small, cruel smirk crossed his face.

"Pathetic little thing," he said, his voice a low rumble that carried through the room. On his nod, one of his helper sluts snipped and removed my panties.

Then his eyes hardened. "Let's have a look. Pull your shirt up. Show everyone what this white beauty had to get by with before she had a real man. Show everyone your faggot clit."

My hands trembled as I obeyed, shifting my t-shirt out of the way.

A few murmurs went through the crowd. My little clit was already hard from anticipation, but to my horror, it didn't soften in the face of this public exposure. Quite the opposite.

Instead, my faggot clit throbbed, and it oozed and dripped precum onto the floor.

Caesar gestured toward me with a dismissive wave of his hand, addressing the room. "This is the miserable faggot clit this white beauty had been getting by with before Ramon. Sad, isn't it?"

A chorus of agreement and cruel laughter washed over me.

A few of the men laughed. One of them said loud enough for everyone to hear, "That's what she was gonna get by with? Jesus!" My fiancée just smiled and leaned into Caesar, clearly enjoying the show.

The shame was crushing, but my body betrayed me completely.

My clit pulsed again, harder, even more precum spilling out.

I was totally exposed and shamed, and my body was screaming its approval.

I had never been more humiliated. I had never been more turned on.

After a long pause so he could savor my humiliation, Caesar tossed my leash to someone on the sidelines. Before I was pulled away, he looked me in the eye. "You're going to watch me breed your fiancée tonight, faggot. And you're going to thank me for it."

Caesar then led Samantha hand-in-hand to center stage.

She was beaming in anticipation. I'd never seen her more radiant. Her cheeks were flushed. Her nipples were hard through her bra and tank top. And I could smell how fabulously wet she was.

Caesar kissed her slowly and deeply--as she enthusiastically welcomed his tongue in her dainty mouth--and his hand slid up her skirt. It confirmed to everyone present exactly what she was to him and what I was to both of them.

When he finished kissing and fondling Samantha, Caesar stepped back and addressed the room. "This white girl has been black-only for just a few months... Our good friend, Ramon, has broken her in some, and tonight he gifts her to us... Thank you, Ramon! The slut's pathetic cucky will now do the honors, and further gift her pussy to me to breed... So that she can *truly* fulfill her purpose. She and I have only met in passing before now!"

Without further ado, I was unleashed kneeling on the floor between them, my hard little clit raging, continuing to betray my excitement. I was over the moon that I had been invited to watch and participate in person!

First, I gently undid and removed my love's cute little denim skirt.

Then, I slid her soaking wet panties down her legs.

My fiancée gently stepped out of them. I tossed them to the audience and had the vague impression that they were getting passed around for inspection.

It was the moment of truth. I had blessed my fiancée getting bred by stripping her for the whole party to see.

God, did she look amazing! Her pussy smelled strongly of arousal. Moisture was glistening down her thighs.

Her tank top and bra stayed on. They were of no consequence. Caesar ripped them off her later on.

Caesar looked down on me. "Thank you, faggot. Thank you for sanctifying your fiancée's breeding... As a token of my gratitude, we have a *special* slut who will now attend to you... Please. Go join her in the corner as you watch."

I turned. And was immediately stunned.

Who I saw--it literally took my breath away.

It was none other than Emily. My Emily. My beautiful, adorable first love!

And she still looked fantastic!

Emily was standing near the loveseat, holding her hands together like she always does at the start of social situations.

I hadn't seen her in four years--not since she met John, before I met Samantha.

Her cute good looks still made my heart flutter. Of course they did. You know what they say. You never forget your first love. Ever.

Still bookish-cute at my same age, of twenty-eight: 5'6", petite frame, long straight blonde hair falling past her shoulders, blue eyes behind brown-rimmed glasses.

Emily wore a burgundy sweater dress that hugged her modest but excellent curves--34C-26-35--looking every bit the PhD candidate she was, right down to the sensible flats.

Samantha had found her. I could see my fiancée watching us from across the room, that small conspiratorial smile on her face.

Emily approached me with an awkward, sympathetic smile. "Samantha contacted me," she acknowledged quietly. "She thought... she thought I could help you through this."

She glanced toward the center of the room where Caesar stood with Samantha--his hands fondling her delicious ass and glistening naked pussy--then back to me.

My fiancée was cooing, and her juices were streaming down her thighs as she held onto Caesar's strong neck for support. Samantha was in heat.

"I came as a kindness, Ed. To help you," Emily added. She paused, a small smile at her delectable little lips. "And also... well. You'll see."

Emily looked absolutely smashing, and I knew all too well that she'd be "skilled" companionship.

She sipped a cocktail as she regarded my exposed little clit--no one had furnished me any fresh panties since they'd been cut off--with what seemed a mixture of amusement and remembered disappointment.

"Caesar also invited me," she said. "And my husband, too--he's that aroused but conflicted-looking guy in the opposite corner. You'll see why soon enough." She glanced briefly back at her unhappy husband. "But I'm your babysitter for starters."

She took my wrist and started to steer us toward the loveseat in the corner, which faced the center of the room.

From across the room, John suddenly appeared at Emily's elbow. He leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for me to hear: "It's okay, Em. Go ahead. I understand this is part of the package." Then he stepped away and receded into the background.

"Well, I'm glad he's getting the idea," Emily remarked to me, as we arrived at the loveseat. We could see the whole room perfectly from our vantage point.

"Sit," she said.

I sat.

Emily reached over and gave my clit an initial inspection, using a couple of fingers of each hand. "Yup. Just as I remembered it. Lots of enthusiasm--very little reach. Poor Ed!"

It was the first time in months that another person had taken a direct interest in my faggot clit--never mind such a fabulous choice as my adorable first love. Even though her words were cutting, I scarcely noticed. I was over the moon and beyond at her physical attention.

My little faggot clit grew harder than I'd ever seen it before. I think it even reached five-and-a-quarter inches, I was so aroused!

Emily settled beside me, crossed her legs, and took a sip of her drink. She looked at my clit again as if in disbelief--disbelief, I assumed, that she'd ever been with a man so small as me.

I wasn't surprised in the least, and it actually excited me to have her joining Samantha with her own independent assessment of me as small. Somehow it made things seem "right," "settled," and "appropriate." It brought me a feeling of peace as well.

"My husband--John--he hated that I am to take care of you tonight," she said, not looking at him. "But I suppose he's getting over it."

Her right hand dropped to my lap almost as an afterthought. She wrapped her fingers around me loosely--eyes on the rest of the party--and began a slow, gentle, mechanical motion. My little rod was barely longer than her hand.

She toyed with me absentmindedly. Like someone might click their pen at the office.

But her fingers still knew me--the same gentle pressure she'd used in her dorm room eight years ago, the Sunday mornings when she'd tease me slowly while we kissed.

"It's pretty funny, isn't it?" Emily added. "Your own fiancée isn't allowed to touch you... but Caesar's fine with another man's wife doing it... But shit... Your dick is small! It's even smaller than I remembered! No wonder you're a cucky now. No wonder everyone's calling it your 'faggot clit.' I should have thought of that! Even my lame-ass husband is bigger than you!"

She kept stroking me with the same bored--but thrilling to me--touch. "I can't believe I used to let this inside me," she murmured to herself. "No wonder you ended up like this."

From across the room, Samantha's first real cry of lust cut through the music. High, sharp, and unmistakable.

Emily's hand kept moving. Slow. Unhurried. Unexcited. I still loved it.

"I suppose it's a cute little hard on," she conceded. "Not revolting at least... But, unfortunately for you, I'm only required to stroke it."

She worked me ever so slowly, edging me. I loved, loved, loved her touch.

The smell of her--vanilla shampoo, lavender lotion--flooded me with warmth. I was twenty again, her hair falling around my face as she smiled over at me.

"I'm supposed to keep you from popping off too soon, of course," Emily added.

"Thanks, I think," I replied. "But why service me at all, what with your husband being here?"

I remembered asking her to marry me once, almost in this same tone. She'd said, "maybe... we'll see!" Now she was stroking me while my fiancée got bred across the room, and somehow the memory made it sweeter.

"I do love John," Emily responded, "but I'm dying to go black like your fiancée. And Caesar promised me that if I 'took care of you tonight' that he and his friends would take me black."

"And you brought your husband to watch?"

"John begged to watch!" Emily replied. "He's a faggot beta cuckold, apparently, too--just like you! He just wishes I didn't have to service you--all the rest of this, he's thrilled for!"

We were quiet then, as my first love continued to edge me, and Caesar and Samantha began to command more of our attention.

Caesar stood in the center of the room, Samantha kneeling in front of him, worshipping his gargantuan twelve-inch cock with her hands and mouth.

The music didn't stop, but the conversation did. Everyone was transfixed, watching my fiancée with Caesar.

"This white girl," he said, loud enough for the room, as he patted my Samantha on the head, "has been black only for three months. Tonight I complete her ownership. Tonight, I breed her... And afterwards-- perhaps a few more of us will fuck her, too! Try to race my sperm, even!"

I sat motionless on the loveseat beside Emily. Her hand still moved at that same unhurried pace, as my little clit throbbed against her fingers.

Two of the men in the crowd disappeared briefly and came back carrying it between them--a padded black leather bench, waist height, with a modest bump at one end to tilt the hips up. Purpose-built.

They set the breeding bench on the platform and stepped back.

The party reconfigured itself around it the way people arrange themselves around a stage.

Caesar said nothing. He simply looked down at Samantha and gently tapped her head.

My fiancée knew what to do. She rose, climbed onto the bench without being told, and lay back on it.

The bolster caught her hips and tilted them up and open.

She looked at the ceiling for a moment, then at Caesar, and her expression was one I had never seen on her--not shy at all. Not anxious, either. More serene, I would say. Settled. Primed.

Like something had already been decided a long time ago and she was only now arriving at it.

Caesar undressed the rest of the way without ceremony. When he was fully out of his clothes the room went quieter.

He was nearly fully hard. All fabulous twelve inches, dark and wide. Both longer and thicker than Ramon.

He tapped his cock on my fiancée's thighs a few times, and it grew fully hard.

Emily's hand stopped moving entirely. Just rested there holding my clit.

"Christ," she said softly. "What a specimen." Obviously referring to Caesar.

Caesar entered Samantha slowly, deliberately.

In scarcely more than a moment, my fiancée cried loudly. It sounded more like relief than anything.

Then she suddenly moaned out loud:

"Ohhh fuck... My biggest yet! Oh, God... The fucking *best*! YYESSSSS! I'm totally fertile, Master! I felt my egg drop this morning... I'm so ready... Please... PLEASE!!! Please breed me!"

It was clear from the way she said it that she meant it. My fiancée was relieved that she was finally, at last, getting bred--and visibly thrilled that it was by the biggest cock she'd ever taken.

Watching her react that way--hearing the genuine excitement in her voice--made something shift inside me.

I wasn't just turned on by the humiliation. I was genuinely happy to see my beautiful Samantha so thrilled, so deeply satisfied by a man who could give her what I never could. To see her bred by a man who could fuck her a million times better than me.

"Happy to," Caesar responded to her, matter-of-factly. "Breeding you is the idea."

Samantha's hands found the edges of the bench and gripped them.

Her back arched off the bolster.

Her double-D breasts heaved and swayed.

Her nipples were hard and dark pink, highlighted by a small spotlight that tracked her from the ceiling.

"Oh--oh God!" she gasped. "Oh God, oh God, oh-- YYESSSS!! Thank God!! FINALLY!! YYYESSSSS! I love it! I love it SOOOO much!!"

The big black men in the crowd--all of them hoping to fuck her next--were drooling, their eyes larger than saucers.

Emily's hand drifted back to my crotch. Lazily this time--fingers loose around my shaft and balls, tickling them lightly. Her eyes stayed on the bench.

Caesar found his rhythm, and Samantha's gasps organized themselves into long rising moans--moans that peaked with each thrust and dropped back only to climb again.

Her blonde curls grew damp at the temples.

Her hips moved to meet her new lover--her new Master--tilting up instinctively.

My fiancée's incredible body sought--and found--the angle that got Caesar's immense cock all the way inside her. All twelve inches.

"Oh fuck--right there--right there--don't stop-- DON'T! STAHHH- PPPPP!! PPUHH-LEEEEEZZE!! Neh-ver STAHHHHH- PPPPPP!!"

She wasn't performing.

There was no awareness of the room in her face, no self-consciousness, none of the shyness that defined her in nearly every context.

My fiancée's mouth was agape.

Her eyes were glassy.

She looked, I realized, like someone in the middle of something that could only be summarized as "immense" and even "inevitable."

"Look at her face," Emily said.

I was already looking.

Emily's fingers tightened slightly around my balls, then released, then resumed their idle rolling.

When she moved back to stroking me it was slow and without urgency--a few strokes back, then forward again, keeping me hovering at the edge and making sure I didn't go over.

Samantha came the first time loudly--a long, wailing cry that seemed like it would be audible to the whole neighborhood. Maybe it was.

My fiancée's whole body went rigid before dissolving into shaking, as she spilled from her first orgasm right into a second.

"Aw, God! It's so AY-MAYYY-ZINGGGG! Neh-ver stahhhh-pppp!! Nehhhhh-verrrrrrr!!"

Caesar didn't so much as pause.

Her third orgasm came after only a brief pause, and afterwards she expressed her gratitude.

"Oh, God, Master. THANK YOU! Thank you so much! Oh my God! I loved that! I love you. Make us a baby! Breed me at last! Please breed me-- PUHHH-LLLLEEEZE!!"

Caesar's pace accelerated, and he seemed more purposeful. He fucked my fiancée in shorter, deeper, even more insistent strokes. As though he was trying to shove his cock up into her womb. For all I knew, maybe it reached there!

His hands gripped Samantha's hips hard.

Her hips looked as though they were sculpted perfectly for him, warmly embracing his muscled frame.

Samantha loved Caesar fucking her.

She kept getting louder and louder. Her voice went raw. She babbled incoherently.

Her back arched far off the bench. Her legs wrapped tight around Caesar's back.

Her stupendous breasts heaved and shook with every thrust.

The room watched in rapt concentration.

I felt Emily's hand shift--now steady and deliberate. Her grip tightened with a new intention.

She had been reading the room as carefully as she'd been reading me, and she knew exactly what was coming on the bench.

When Caesar's breathing shifted again--a particular guttural shift that seemed to scream "I'm about to breed this slut!"--Emily moved fast.

Her left hand closed over my mouth, as her right kept its rhythm, unwavering. My precum provided plenty of lube.

And just as Caesar drove deep and at last shot his load deep inside my fiancée--just as Samantha let out another orgasmic yell and spasmed violently--Emily put her lips to my ear and bit sharply on the lobe. It was a "signature" move of hers that I remembered ever so fondly, and it was incredible to experience it again!

I came so hard my vision went white.

My moan was swallowed almost completely by Emily's palm. She held her hand over my mouth until I stopped shaking, her teeth still grazing my ear as she whispered, "You're the ultimate cucky now, faggot. She's been bred. And now she'll never come back."

Then Emily withdrew both hands, produced a cocktail napkin from somewhere, and wiped my clit and her fingers with the same brisk efficiency she brought to everything.

"There," she said simply.

I had just had the best orgasm of my life while watching my fiancée getting thoroughly bred by a superior man.

God, I loved my new life!

It wasn't just my own orgasm.

It was seeing the love of my life so completely satisfied--so visibly happy and fulfilled--that made me feel profoundly, utterly content.

And I was proud of Samantha for becoming a black-only breeding slut in a way I couldn't really explain.

On the bench, Caesar stayed inside Samantha for a long moment. Then he stepped back and looked at three brothers in the crowd--best friends of his, I learned later. Massive black guys. Each seemed larger than the next. The smallest of them was no shorter than 6'3" and 250 pounds of pure muscle.

"She's ready for you guys," he said. "Make sure she's bred."

I felt my stomach drop. Three more. Three more Black men were about to fuck my fiancée--my gorgeous future wife--while she was already full of another man's cum. And I was going to sit and watch it happen.

Clearly, I was every bit the "faggot" that she and her black lovers called me. Who but a faggot could get turned on at watching his fiancée get so thoroughly, royally black owned and bred?

Samantha lifted her head and looked at the brothers with an expression that sent a bolt straight through me. Not the calm anticipation she'd worn for Caesar. Something even hungrier.

She'd known about the three brothers who were also going to fuck her in advance, I could now tell.

And the anticipation of being fucked bareback, free of any birth control, also by three strangers--three hung black studs she had not so much as even met before!--had been building all evening.

"Come here," she said. Her voice was wrecked, and she didn't care. "Let's get started. Let's make extra sure I'm good and bred, fellas."

The first brother--gifted with a ten-inch cock almost as thick as Caesar's--positioned himself between her legs and when he pushed in she arched immediately. "Yes--bare--I can feel you're bare--oh that's so good--"

I couldn't look away. My fiancée--the woman I was still promised to marry--was getting fucked raw by a second Black stranger while Caesar's cum was deep inside her. Almost certainly his sperm had just fertilized her egg, and she was starting to incubate a baby--*their* baby, a *black* baby.

And I was sitting there with my little faggot clit in Emily's hand, hard as a nail and leaking like a broken faucet.

It was horrifying how turned on I was. How much I wanted to see her take the next one too. And it was incredible and fabulous, too. It was everything I had dreamed this moment would be. The absolute peak erotic moment of my life to date.

Samantha's hands came up to pull her latest lover closer, and her legs wrapped around him with a certainty I'd never seen her direct at me.

She pulled their heads together and opened her mouth for soulful French-kissing, inviting his tongue to invade her mouth and possess her as profoundly as his cock was taking her pussy.

Knowing she was taking him bare, that Caesar's seed was still inside her, that she was being bred with the full blessing of the room--it showed on her face as the most uncomplicated joy I had ever seen from her or maybe anyone.

She took all three of the hung black brothers that way. Joyously. Their cocks ran from ten inches to a foot, the biggest even thicker than Caesar's.

All of them balls deep. Shit. They had to be up in her womb.

Each transition was accompanied by a brief glistening pause. Samantha breathing hard, watching the next one approach, her hips still moving from reflex, her mouth aggressively French kissing--before the eventual next cry of welcome as she got filled with seed again.

By the time the third bareback brother fucked her, my fiancée was quivering in bliss, an ecstatic-looking shaking that I'd only seen occasionally in movies--and never before involving my Samantha, that was for sure.

Emily had resumed her slow patient work through all of this--stroking, drifting to my balls, stroking again--getting my little hard on rebuilt and ready. I was hard again by the second brother, which seemed to mildly interest my fiancée's new friend.

I was soon throbbing again in Emily's hand. She gave a quiet, amused little laugh. "Faster than I remembered," she noted, eyes flicking to my revived erection.

As the third brother's thrusting shifted towards his climax, Samantha's voice climbed again. "Yes! Inside me! Unload inside me! Give it to me! Make sure I'm bred! FFFUHHH-CKKK! YYYESSSSS!! Oh, God! YYESSSSS! Oh, thank you!! Thank you so fucking much!!"

Emily's strokes on my faggot clit tightened once more with intention. I came again. Harder than the first time, which I would not have thought possible.

"You're welcome," she said, with a wry smile, as she cleaned us both up.

I was incredibly blissed out but still managed to murmur. "Thank you, Em. Thank you so much."

John had moved closer without my noticing. He was standing maybe ten feet from the bench now, very still, his shirt loosened, watching Samantha's face with an expression of awe and admiration that I recognized because I was sure that I was wearing the same one.

Emily noticed. She glanced at him, then back at the bench.

"Us white women," she said quietly, "all of us are black cock sluts inside."

When the third brother stepped away from the bench, my fiancée lay with her eyes closed and a smile a mile wide on her face.

She looked like someone who had just had an incredible workout and also gotten stoned.

She looked exhausted--and also completely blissed out.

After a few moments, she sat up, accepted a towel someone handed her, and looked across the room at Caesar with an expression of complete and uncomplicated devotion.

Ramon might as well have been dead to Samantha now.

Indeed, if Ramon was even still at the party, he was hanging out way in the background. I couldn't spot him either.

Caesar was there for my fiancée instead. He smiled at her, gave her a warm hug, and then nodded toward John. "Go take care of him. Keep him occupied."

Caesar looked at me and added. "You'll have to wait until another time for your usual clean up duties, faggot. So sorry."

I understood, and gave a mild, obedient nod back at him.

Samantha slid off the bench, wrapped the towel loosely around herself, and crossed to where John still stood--in the same spot, motionless.

My fiancée leaned up and said something into his ear that made his eyes close. Then she took his hand, led him to a loveseat in another corner, and snuggled up next to him. His pants were open in under ten seconds.

Then Caesar looked at Emily and me. "You two," he said. "Make yourselves useful."

We crossed the room together, working from man to man. Emily was efficient, flushed, clearly enjoying herself. I could smell her arousal sharp and sweet, overcoming her vanilla shampoo.

She took each man in her mouth hungrily, most of them balls deep. I worked with less practice but equal eagerness--and my body responded immediately. My little clit was hard again within minutes, grazing my shirt, responding to BBC and Emily's scent and the overwhelming reality.

She glanced down, then up at the man before her. "There it is," she said quietly. "The faggot clit is excited again."

She leaned close, breath hot against my cheek. "You're going to be fine at this." Drily. But with kindness.

It was Caesar who ended it, the way a true black king would--without announcement.

He put a hand on Emily's shoulder as she was finishing with one of the brothers and turned her gently but firmly toward the bench.

But as Emily started to walk toward the platform, one of Caesar's helper sluts--a tall, stunning black woman in a leather dress--put a firm hand on my shoulder. "Not you, faggot," she said, her voice low and firm. "You're needed at the bar down the hall. Caesar wants you to serve drinks."

The helper slut gave me a fresh pair of panties. "Put these on. Can't have you dripping cum into the drinks, faggot," she explained, as she shoved me towards the bar area.

"But... Emily..." I stammered, my eyes fixed on my first love as she approached the bench.

"You'll see the video later," the slut said, giving me a push toward the bar. "Now go."

The last thing I saw before I was turned away was Emily handing John her wedding ring, which he pocketed with a trembling hand.

The last thing I heard as I exited the room was Emily announcing to Caesar, her husband and all: "I should be fertile. I didn't tell John, but I stopped the pill last week while he was traveling, and he hasn't been allowed inside me for weeks!"

Shit! Emily--my adorable first love, Emily--was going to get black bred tonight, too! And I was going to be stuck in the next room, praying to occasionally hear some of it, and hoping that I'd get to see a decent quality video at least later on.

Imminently, I was stuck behind the bar. Stuck for what felt like an eternity. Off in a side room, mixing drinks and handing them out.

It was one thousand parts frustrating, even as it was a million parts arousing!

The sounds were everything. Emily's first cry, which was audible above the murmur of the bar room: a raw, shocked sound of arousal and surrender that was so different from Samantha's. The low, appreciative murmurs of the crowd. The rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh.

The bar area patrons kept their voices low. They, too, wanted to listen in as they refreshed their drinks.

I could picture it all in my head--my beautiful, bookish first love, the ghost of my inadequacy, being completely ravished by Caesar and compatriots and their gargantuan black cocks. Their enormous cocks ruining her for white little dicklets on that bench.

My faggot clit was rock hard against the panties, serving as a constant, aching reminder of what I was missing. It was torture. It was sublime.

Finally, after about an hour of Emily fucking multiple black guys--I learned later that all of them were bare--the party began to wind down.

I began to realize that quite a few people had paired up and fucked while they were watching first my fiancée and then my first love get fucked and bred. In reality, they were the centerpieces of an orgy.

I stood near the door in my t-shirt and panties, clit still hard--it's small but has lots of enthusiasm.

I was shaken by events. It was overwhelming to have both my fiancée and my first love black bred in an interracial orgy on the same night. Utterly overwhelming.

One of Caesar's helper sluts passed me my pants to put on.

Samantha scarcely interacted with me as she cleaned up and got ready to go. My fiancée--disheveled and with cum dripping down the insides of her thighs--gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said matter-of-factly, "I'm glad you were here for this, my love. It's important for you to see what I'm becoming."

Emily found me as she was also getting ready to leave. Her glasses were askew. Her hair was tangled and cum-splattered. She'd pulled her dress back on, but nothing else--not even trying to hide the numerous loads of cum dripping down her thighs.

She stopped close and looked me in the eye. "I might say I was sorry, Ed," she said. "For making this into quite the 'shock and awe' for you... But it seems you really liked it! And I think it's sublime for you to see both of your loves get black owned and bred."

A smile. "Yup," she added, as she glanced at my still hard little faggot clit. "You're having your best life!"

Emily then patted my cheek, in affection and condescension. "You're welcome," she said again. "You're very welcome!"

Then she turned to her husband. "I'm going home with Caesar, too, my love," she said to him. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Emily didn't wait for his response. She simply walked to where Caesar stood with Samantha, slipped her arm through his, and the three of them walked out. Caesar was in the middle, my fiancée and my first love on either side, both looking up at him with total devotion.

John stood motionless a few feet from me. His shirt untucked, his face gray. He looked at the empty doorway, then at me. The room had emptied around us.

I pulled my pants over my stiff little clit and panties, and at Caesar's instruction, stayed in the humiliating t-shirt.

John fumbled with his belt, his hands shaking.

A helper slut gave John and me each a small jar full of white liquid. It could only be one thing. "Here," she said, "I worked with the girls to get you guys each a 'refreshing beverage' to drink. Caesar expects videos of you sipping it all down as soon as you get home."

I could hardly wait and instantly smiled. I glanced at John. He was smiling, too.

"Thank you, Ma'am!" we said in unison.

We shared an Uber back to our respective apartments in defeated silence, but sublime arousal.

Our perverted dreams were finally realized: our women had both become black only breeding sluts, at last.

Neither of us spoke. I was still hard in my pants, thinking about both my fiancée and my first love getting bred on the same night.

John stared out the window, but I could see the bulge in his pants too. We were both pathetic.

Samantha and I never did hear from Ramon again. Apparently, his disappearance was part of the transaction.

Nine months later, my fiancée had her first baby--a gorgeous brown baby boy. He looked a lot like Caesar, so presumably his seed got to her egg first.

Three days later, Emily gave birth, too--a gorgeous mocha-colored girl. John had let me know.

Caesar says that as soon as they're healed, he's going to have them both black bred at a shared gangbang again.

Us cuckies will have to stay home and await cleaning duties afterwards.

And that was how my life as a beta faggot cuckold got well and started.