My husband is just as much a slut as I am. That’s why he said I could have anything I wanted as his preggo phone sex wife. I knew he wanted that dick he brought over to help make me feel better after a horrible day of my brats running wild and him working late. He brought home take out ran me a bath and told me he had made sure that I came hard tonight. I pushed him away as he was rubbing oil on my body after my bath. I didn’t want his mouth on my pussy tonight. My husband look at me he said what if it was full of cum? Then could I lick out that beautiful cunt? His clitty was hard under his red panties. He was pathetic as he begged with pleading eyes. His friend he said was one I had gotten pregnant with our 2nd brat.
That made my pussy warm up fast. I made him beg in proper fashion this time. On his knees he bowed as head and asked if he could be my fag to help get my beautiful pregnant pussy fucked. He wanted to know if the whore in me would accept the whore in him.
Now I understand a man has to hide who he is sometimes, and a man needs to be brought into his fag state. But my man is not a complete fag. For he needs the woman in me to control him to watch me be fucked for him and him to take cock right along side of me. It is a different world, one where he is stuck between the full gay life and the bisexual life. He is a fag cuckold, a part of the sissy world and I will let him be who he is because I am the black cock whore momma warned you about. And I enjoy being used as a pregnant whore and controlling my submissive husband and his cock addiction.


















I remember the first time I was with a man. My mommy’s boyfriend, my step daddy, showed me exactly what it means to be a woman. I was a teen, I’m hornier than anything. Being a French girl in the Southern United States? That got me a lot of attention from the boys. But down in Baton Rouge, down in New Orleans, it’s not as uncommon as you might think. My step daddy took a special interest in me. Mama was out at the market, shopping with my sister Marci. He came to me after I had finished my back. Wordlessly, he sat me on my bed, laid me down, spread my sweet, young, bald pussy lips, and gave me a true kiss. The kiss that let his younger flicker over my clit. The kiss that left me screaming, and shaking. He scolded me, as I called for God’s blessing in my native tongue. Over his knee I went, freshly dripping and trembling from my first orgasm. He spanked my bare ass again, and again. Until I counted in English, and spoke never again a word of French. Then, he kissed me again on my young cunt before slipping his fingers inside of me. Only a taste, he said. When I was begging, he’d let me have his cock. It was later that summer on a sticky Louisiana August evening that we conceived my first son. He branded me as his breeding whore. And I lapped it all up; a kitten with her cream. Now, I teach my own little ones. I smile; I’m the cat that got the canary.



