Your Wife is Built for BBC!

You weren’t home when I arrived. Your wife was, though. She said you’ll be returning late, likely till another hour or more. It was a quarter past seven already; I had things to do and places to go. Luckily, your wife desired to keep me company.

Your wife said she’s recently been taking dancing lessons. The lessons have helped with building up her self-esteem, so she said, but regrettably you haven’t been forthwith about her hobby. No sense of praise or acknowledgment from you at all. A damn shame.

I asked your wife if she wouldn’t mind putting up a show for me. She appeared enthusiastic about it, but said we’d have to head upstairs first. I figured why not. I offered my hand and she led me upstairs to the bedroom you both share.

She had me take off my shirt and told me to lie on the bed; she wanted me to get quite comfortable, you see. Your wife then stood at the foot of the bed, put on some music—Chris Isaak’s ‘Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing’—then she started grooving to the music.

She lowered my head and started giving me the kiss of life. She rolled her tongue over my penis tip, sucked on it for a while, then stretched her mouth wide open and deep-throated me whole.

Her movement was slow and effortless and sensual. You should have seen the way she swung her hips, jerked her pelvis towards me, and wave her arms above her head like she was summoning the spirits. 

She began to undress, slow and effortless like she had been planning for this moment since.

As for me, I couldn’t help getting hard underneath my jeans. My cock sensed pussy and just had to respond correctly.

Your wife was all smiles sensing what her powers were doing to me. She began to undress, slow and effortless like she had been planning for this moment since. I was her most captivating audience and she was adamant about putting on a show. 

Her dress came off and then she stood merely in her panties and bra. Her tits looked eager to pop out of her bra, and I wet my lips in anticipation of feeling my hands over her gorgeous body. 

Your wife then asked me: “Do you think I’m built for black cock, sir?”

I replied: “Come over to me and I’ll tell you.”

She reached behind and unclasped her bra, letting her massive tits tumbled over her chest. She got on the bed and slid over my legs. Her hands undid my belt buckle first, then unzipped my fly, pulled my jeans and boxer shorts down my hips and then she gasped at the sight of my hard-on. 

“Oh my, my, my,” she said as she wielded my cock with both hands. “What a beautiful black thing you have.”

She lowered my head and started giving me the kiss of life. She rolled her tongue over my penis tip, sucked on it for a while, then stretched her mouth wide open and deep-throated me whole. I played with her hair and all I heard was the suckling noise coming from her mouth. It felt incredibly good. 

Your wife eventually stopped and then slid further towards me and then we kissed deeply and passionately. I sucked her tits like they were the freshest mangoes I’d even seen. I laid her on her back, ripped off her panties—trust me, she didn’t mind—then ate her pussy like it was the last meal I’d ever enjoy.

The music kept on playing while I turned your wife over and fucked her like she was my bitch. It’s a good thing you didn’t return home to disturb us, white boi.