I was in what sociologists would call an "at risk" group. You've read the same stories I have and know the type: long dirty blond, some would say red hair, great figure, married to a sweet guy who makes plenty of money, two children in preschool. I was... well a lady never tells her age, but I'd hit that time in life we all know is coming, when women start to get horny enough to "do" things.

I had been a virgin when we married, as was my husband, Gary, so we didn't know much about sex. That didn't keep us from trying to learn. Among the things I learned was how to keep track of Gary's fantasies. It's surprising how stupid men think their wives are about computers, a view I've never discouraged. It makes it a lot simpler if he hides his porn collection in obvious ways and doesn't even erase the Internet "History" or the cookies from the porn sites. We all know men are just overgrown teenage boys and his fantasies started, as most men's do, with stories of geeky boys making it with the entire cheerleading squad. From there he moved on to stories of horny, voluptuous teachers coming on to "helpless" high-school boys.

Gary almost fainted the night I met him at the door in a short tight skirt, high heels, frilly white blouse buttoned to the neck, and a ruler in my hand. "Mrs. Brooks" told him she giving him detention because he had been staring at her since the term began, ogling her boobs and looking up her skirt every day to see if she was wearing panties. When Gary tried to defend himself, she shook the ruler at him, saying there was no excuse for such behavior, leering at her like a sex object. Didn't he realize she had feelings? Didn't he know how hot it made a married woman who wasn't getting enough sex from her husband to have a 14-year-old stud like him just LOOK at her? By now I was tearing his clothes off. Didn't he realize, Mrs. Brooks screamed, how horny a grown woman gets and how much she needs a hard teen cock in her hot, wet pussy? Gary was on his back, stunned, as I rode him and Mrs. Brooks bellowed obscenities demanding that he shoot his potent teen baby batter in her fertile cunt and KNOCK HER UP!

It was an interesting weekend. Gary forgot all about condoms while fucking his sexy teacher and, sure enough, Tabitha was born about nine months later. Gary supposed that we had just gotten carried away, but a little arithmetic would have told him "Mrs. Brooks appeared on the day I was most likely to conceive.

As I knew it would, having a sexy pregnant wife and soon a beautiful baby girl spurred Gary to work harder and move on to a better-paying job. He moved on in other ways too, leaving behind his teenage fantasies. By the time I was ready for sex again after Tabitha's arrival I noticed that Garry had discovered Frank McCoy. Apparently he was intrigued by stories of pubescent girls who seduce their fathers/ brothers/ uncles/ grandfathers/ Jr. High teachers so they can get pregnant. He was a sitting duck.

"Little Tabitha" met him one night in short checkered skirt, white cotton panties and her big boobies straining in a too-small blouse. Licking a lollipop, she told him she'd gotten all "A's" on hr 'port card, so he'd have to give her anything she asked for, as he had promised. She went on to explain that it just wasn't fair for her Mom and big sisters and all the other girls in her sixth grad class to have big bulging belies, full of Daddy's or brother's or son's babies and not her. Didn't he love his Little Tabitha? Well of course he did and proved it by ramming his cock in me, blathering about filling my baby pussy with his hot, thick baby-making jizz. "Little Tabitha" and "Daddy" really enjoyed themselves that weekend and as you may guess, Joshua was born nine months later.

Which brought me to my state of uncertainty. While I was pregnant (too bad he never read any Homer Vargas stories about how horny pregnant women are) Gary's fantasies took another turn: he discovered Dark Wanderer. I had to read all the stories, too, to see what he had in mind, but it wasn't easy. There were so many variations. Would Gary loose me in a card game? Sell me to pay a gambling debt? Make a foolish wager with a coworker that I could not be seduced? Did he intend to show me pornographic DVDs of busty white women getting screwed by big black studs while he played with my pussy until I'd beg him to share me?

I kept waiting for him to bring up the subject, but he said nothing. He didn't even bring home a long, thick, back dildo for me to become fascinated by. Was this part of his game? Letting me stew in his fantasies? I had to buy my own black dildo, damn him! I couldn't believe that Gary could be so devious in his plans to get me black sexed. He never once mentioned anything about his black friends with huge donkey cocks who thought I was hot. I let him see me getting off on the dildo and moaning for "Tyrone" or "Leroy" or "Jamal" to fuck me harder. We always had great sex those nights, but the bastard kept his plans for me to himself. What about his boss? Surely Gary's boss was black and would offer Gary a promotion and a big raise if he'd let me be the company whore or threaten him with dismissal if he did not. I began to refuse Gary sex, hinting that his inadequate little eight-inch weenie could no longer satisfy me. He wasn't happy but took it like the wuss he was. What the Hell was he waiting for?

Then it hit me. Maybe that wasn't Gary's kind of story. Maybe he was waiting for me to be seduced in my home. He did come home unexpected occasionally. Was he expecting to find me in bed with a Black stud I had fallen for? I kicked my self for being so foolish -- and for giving Gary so much credit. If I was going to get Blacked, I couldn't expect any help from him. I started paying more attention to the mailmen, and meter readers, and lawn boys, and plumbers that came to the house. The pipes of our house got cleaned many times in the next few weeks, but never mine. I started wearing the flimsiest of clothes around the house to be ready when the moment arrived and I always tried to answer the door with just a towel wrapped around me. To my dismay, I discovered that most repairmen were white!

One time I was sooo close. The electrician I called to replace a perfectly good light fixture was a nice looking young black man. I climbed the step ladder to show him exactly which fixture it was and I could tell he noticed that this white housewife was not wearing panties on the shaved, wet pussy she had been playing with since he arrived. When I came down there was a bulge in his trousers. This was it: The Big One, I knew. He would grab my head and force his 14 inch log down my throat. (I had been practicing with the dildo so I wouldn't choke when it happened.) He did nothing! He seemed like he was in a trance. In desperation I fell to my knees, unbuckled his pants, and jerked down his shorts. There must have been some mistake! Even fully erect his cock was no more than 5 or 6 inches. My white HUSBAND had a bigger cock! Even before I got the chance to see if the volume of his spunk in my mouth might somehow compensate for his ridiculous size, he pulled up his trousers and fled.