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she wanted a baby
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Email; aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com
Thanks.
She wanted a baby, by ace 2000
My name is Ted, and I'm a social worker.
It's a pretty lousy job most of the time. The decisions I make are
often heartbreaking. It's my job to take children away from their
parents, if I think that is in the best interest of the child.
Sometimes, the choice is clear. The are obviously abusive,
or incompetent. But more often it's a close judgment call, and
while I always put on an outer show of total know it all confidence,
inside myself, there is often doubt.
Sometimes though, there are "feel good" days, when I can just be
happy with myself. Today was such a day; a meeting with Mr. and
Mrs. Peters, the third and surely final meeting, when I would
approve their adoption of a baby.
I was looking forward to this meeting for another reason; Mrs.
Peters was an absolute knockout. I mean, it's not like I expected
anything. But Mrs. Peters was the kind of woman that it was just a
joy to be in the same room with.
She's big. That is, tall. At least five foot 11. I'm only 5' 8".
She has jet-black hair, ivory skin, green eyes, huge breasts. Her
hips are probably not really very slim, but they're slim relative to
her magnificent bust, and her, well, her rather womanly ass.
She's the type of woman who's aware of the way she can charm most
men out of anything. She'd been blatantly turning that charm on me
during our first two meetings in my office, notwithstanding the fact
that her husband was present.
Mr. Peters is a doctor, he has a residency in a local
hospital. Mrs. Peters is a homemaker. There was absolutely no
problem with approving the adoption; this meeting was all pleasure.
The pleasure of finding a good home for a child, fulfilling the
wishes of a childless couple, and basking in the charm of the lovely
young Mrs. Peters.
It was the first time we were meeting at their house; it was part of
my job to check the accommodations, the neighborhood, etc. the
meeting was for 5:30. I had had a pretty rotten day, and the
traffic out to the suburbs was nasty. Perhaps I wasn't in the best
of moods.
She met me at the door. I was standing one step lower than her, my
face was level with her amazing chest.
"Come on in Mr. Barnes!" She said, offering her hand.
While I'm working, I'm certainly not allowed to let a woman's charms
influenced my judgment. But the judgment was clear in this case.
They were a beautiful couple, with a beautiful home in lovely
neighborhood. Therefore, I could let myself relax, and simply enjoy
the next hour, while I had coffee with the voluptuous Mrs. Peters,
and her husband, and we went through the last of the forms.
It was exquisite, the way my heart quivered with excitement at
her touch. Mrs. Peters must be about the most fertile looking woman
I've ever seen. She looked as though she could knock out two or
three babies at once, and then care for them all with one hand tied
behind her back.
She released my hand as I stepped into the foyer, and I felt my
brain click back into gear.
"Coffee, Mr. Barnes?"
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Peters. Coffee would be nice. Where is Mr.
Peters?"
"He's still at the hospital, he should be here any time."
"Mrs. Peters, you know that you're both required to be present for
this meeting."
"Yes Mr. Barnes, I know. I'm terribly sorry, I'm sure he'll be here
any minute."
Well, I didn't really mind. This meant I could sit alone with Mrs.
Peters for a little while, while she blasted me with the force of
her womanhood, and served me coffee.
She was wearing a white blouse over a short black skirt, and she sat
opposite me, her gorgeous long white legs very much in evidence.
She seemed to fill the entire room with her magnificence, and I
allowed myself to submerge in it, letting her image soak into my
brain, hoping I might dream of her pleasantly that night.
Of course you know that if all I was going to get from this was a
dream, I wouldn't have bothered to write the story.
The phone rang; she looked at me nervously as he listened. She
placed the hand piece gently back in its cradle. She looked up at
me again.
"That was my husband. He can't leave there for at least another two
hours. It's life-and-death. Literally. That's what he said."
She had those green eyes turned on me at full force. It was enough
to make any man's testosterone levels rise. Nonetheless, I didn't
want to wait two hours. I was hungry and tired. Besides, I could
come again sometime during the week.
I stood. "I'm afraid I can't wait that long, Mrs. Peters."
"No! You mustn't go!" She stood quickly, blocking the doorway. I
nearly collided with her. I found myself standing only inches from
her breasts. The rest of her was a little bit farther back.
"Mrs. Peters, please."
She stood her ground.
In fact, she advanced. She pushed me back into the room, she
literally pushed me bodily. With her body.
Her hips were against my stomach, her pushed into my
shoulders. She walked me back towards the couch.
"What do I have to do to make you stay, Mr. Barnes?"
"Mrs. Peters! Why are you doing this?"
"I want a baby, Mr. Barnes. I want a baby more than I can tell you,
I need a baby. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
It wasn't the first time that a woman had wanted barter sex for a
favorable decision from me. But it had always been prostitutes or
junkies before. And by the way, I'd never gone for it.
Mrs. Peters seemed to be under the impression that if I left now,
the adoption process would be in jeopardy.
I'm not a man, but I don't do badly with the ladies. I'm not
very tall, but I'm fit. My hair is gray, but I still have it. I'm
an African-American man; that has not been a handicap.
But no one with the sexual force of Mrs. Peters had ever done
something like this to me. Testosterone was in overdrive, logic
circuits all off-line. There was a slight from moral judgment,
but the proximity of the statuesque beauty called Mrs. Peters soon
silenced it.
She was willing to abuse her power. That wasn't very ethical. I
was in the beautiful situation of not having to compromise myself.
Not much, anyway.
If my arms hadn't gone around her muscular midriff, I would've
fallen over the coffee table. I was trapped, there was no escape
from her power.
Her hand clutched my hair, pulling my head back. Her lips were so
close that her breath went straight down my throat, impacting hard
against my heart, as she spoke.
"Do you still want to leave, Mr. Barnes? Or would you rather stay
awhile?"
My God, if she wanted a baby so bad, I'd do everything in my power
to help her have one. And I wasn't thinking of the adoption
process. Actually, as I said before, I wasn't thinking much at all.
I have to say that when Mrs. Peters did something, she didn't do it
halfway. I was engulfed in her femininity, ensnared by her mouth,
captivated by her tongue.
She had a generous ass. I'm sorry if this is some kind of
stereotype, but I do like a generous ass. Mrs. Peters had the ass
of a woman, not a child. My hardening cock was trapped by her
pelvis as my hands groped under her skirt.
She broke the embrace, stepping back a step. Her nipples had
hardened.
She kept me trapped in her gaze as she removed her blouse. Her
breasts hung heavily in the reinforced bra. She pushed them even
farther forward as she reached behind, releasing the hook. She
slipped the straps over her shoulders, letting those wonderful
mamories swing free.
They were real ones; they didn't stick up or sideways. They hung
forward and down, the brown nipples protruding forward.
I tore my eyes away from the grandeur for a moment, and found her
face. Her expression was hard to read. Determination.
Resignation. Triumph. Lust?
As I unbuttoned my shirt, and removed it and my undershirt, I
wondered if that was possible, the lust I mean. I decided probably
not, but I would let myself play along. What a fantasy, what a
dream. What a woman.
We embraced again, both of us naked now from the waist up. Her skin
on my skin was electrifying, primal. She was silky smooth all over,
her shoulders, her back, her hips.
She bit me, she bit my shoulders, my cheeks, my lips. I think she
growled. She was a predator, I was prey. She could be the black
widow, and eat me when we were done. I didn't care.
She was naked, fully undressed. On the couch. One long ivory leg
on the floor, one on the backrest. The valley between her thighs
was paradise, paradise waiting for me. Her pubic hair was jet
black, curly.
I lay myself down on top of her, also naked, and her white hand
gripped my cock as I kissed her, reveling in her beauty and youth.
She was pushing my hips lower, lower so that my penis would be the
correct position, so that I could enter her.
I didn't actually want to fuck her yet. I wanted to enjoy her some
more first, but who was I to argue? If she wanted my big black cock
inside of her, then surely that's where it wanted to be.
She was as firm and smooth on the inside as she was on the outside.
She was turned on; I had thought she was faking it, but some things
can't be faked. My cock slid into her like a hand into a glove, a
perfect fit, made for each other.
She gasped as I slowly penetrated her. Her hand clutched my ass,
the other in the small of my back.
I have a big cock. I didn't write this to brag about the size of my
cock, but it has to be said. I usually have to slowly work it in a
little at a time. Mrs. Peters just spread those great legs of hers
wide, and gasped as I entered her with one long, slow, stroke.
Did she fake those orgasms? Who cares. She wanted me to think I
made her come, and I think I made her come. What Mrs. Peters wants,
Mrs. Peters gets.
Anyway, I'm sure about the last one. There was a vein pulsing in
her forehead, she was crushing me like a vice, I was drowning in
her.
"Come baby. Come on baby, squirt it out!" She whispered in my ear.
I can't think when was the last time I'd had an orgasm like that.
Maybe never.
We lay there like that for a time. My eyes found the clock. It had
only been half an hour.
"Maybe I should come back tomorrow." I told her, still on her,
still in her, toying with her lovely hair.
"Yes." She said, slightly spaced. "I think I'd better have a shower
before my husband comes home."
She phoned me the next day at my office;
"Do you think you could come by tonight at about 7?"
"For you, Mrs. Peters, anytime. Anyplace. Seven it is."
I was pretty sure we were just going to do the paperwork, probably
Dr. Peters would be in residence this evening.
On the other hand, dreams are free. I couldn't help but have a very
pleasant one during the drive. What a woman.
He was home. I hope the disappointment didn't show on my face.
Dr. Peters is tall and handsome, his handshake firm. He is clearly
the who should be the husband of the magnificent creature who
was his wife.
The woman who would no doubt be starring in my dreams until the day
I die was wearing a blue dress that came down to her ankles. It
hugged her amazing physique, her dreamy hourglass figure. Such a
dress would have been conservative on a lesser woman.
"We're so sorry that my husband missed the meeting yesterday, Mr.
Barnes."
I wasn't.
"Would you do us the honor of having dinner with us?"
"Of course. How could I refuse so gracious an invitation?"
And on top of all the charms that I've already discussed at length,
she could cook, too.
When we had eaten we retired to the living room, and spread the
paperwork over the coffee table, Mrs. Peters and I sitting on the
very couch.
We took care of the business quickly. All was signed and ready. I
stood.
"Mr. and Mrs. Peters, I'm pleased to tell you that you may pick up
your child tomorrow morning."
I shook his hand, and kissed her.
Kissed her.
Kissed her.
This was a little outrageous. Her arms were around me in a very
unprofessional way. Her mouth was consuming me as it had the day
before.
We broke apart, burst apart by sheer willpower. Dr. Peters seemed
slightly shocked.
"Darling," she said to him, "why don't you go upstairs. Have an
early night. I want to be alone with Mr. Barnes for a while."
A few outrageous things have happened to me in my life, and I've
heard a few outrageous stories. But I'd never heard of a
telling her husband to go away so that she could be with another
man. Not to mention one twice her age and um, black.
"All right, dear." He said, looking cowed. And he simply went
upstairs.
She grabbed my hand in hers; she had that look on her face again,
but this time there was definitely lust in it.
"There's a guestroom." She told me.
She strode ahead of me like a queen, Regal, graceful, powerful.
Pulling me by the hand.
She threw the door closed behind us. It was a small room. A bed, a
night table, and a closet. A bed.
We were all over each other, hands everywhere, lips, teeth, nails.
This time I wouldn't be denied, and my tongue went to her
like a bee to the flower.
I love to lick a woman. I love to lick her until she can barely
take any more. I love to deny myself while I do it, but if she
wants to suck my cock at the same time, that's even better.
She wanted to, but she couldn't comfortably reach it. She was too
much longer than I. She stroked me with her hands, her lovely long
white hands roaming over my black cock and balls, caressing my
brown ass.
Somewhere along the line the hormones that were ruling my brain were
interrupted by the thought of Dr. Peters. What was he doing? What
was he feeling?
I pulled my head up from between her luscious white thighs, and
rolled onto my back, hesitant and unsure. I should tell her that
this wasn't right.
Her mouth, her gorgeous mouth, descended.
She on my dick like it was the last dick on Earth. She
sucked on it like it was the greatest thing she'd ever had to suck
on, she licked its length as though it where the sweetest candy, her
lovely eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation.
Once more, moral judgment was shut down. More than shut down, it
was nuked. I think it hasn't recovered since.
She climbed on top of me, and once more my big black dick slid
easily into her body. That big white body and that big black dick
just seemed to be made to go together.
I ran my hands over her belly, her flat white belly, up to her big
white breasts, lifting them, holding their weight as she rocked back
and forth on me.
I never particularly liked this position. Mrs. Peters pushed her
pelvis back so hard each time, that it some. She was getting
such pleasure out of it though, that I relaxed and let her.
She stopped for a minute while I propped myself on some pillows.
Now I could run my hands over her hips and her back while she
carried on.
She came, and I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply. I love to
do that.
We changed, so she was below. I like it better that way, I can
control myself more.
She came again, clutching me and moaning loudly. I stopped for a
break, kissing her mouth and her breasts. I slowly started moving
again. I wondered if I would survive.
Well, I obviously did. But not before I came like a fire hose.
She rolled me over, engulfing me with her Amazon frame, pushing her
tongue into my mouth, nibbling my ears, clutching at me.
"Oh, baby, that was great! God, that was great! I don't know if we
can ever do this again, but it was great!"
And after some time, when we'd both found our breath, and my brain
had started to sluggishly function once more;
"What about your husband? Have you done this before?"
"No."
"How did you know he would go along with this?"
"I didn't."
"He doesn't have a gun or anything does he?"
She laughed; "No. He's a pacifist. He cheated on me once. I
forgave him, but I told him. I told him one day that I would make
him feel what it was like."
I felt hurt. "Is that's why you did this? For revenge?"
She laughed, and kissed me.
"No. I don't know exactly why I wanted you, but it wasn't to
my husband. There's something sexy about you. I didn't notice at
first, I just needed you to stay, for the baby. I admit that. But
then, when we did it. oh baby, you really do it for me."
I left, feeling bad in some ways, great in others.
Then again, why should I feel sorry for big, handsome, Dr. Peters?
He had cheated first, cheated on his voluptuous wife.
I was still amazed at how he took it, though.
She phoned me during the week;
"Hello Mr. Barnes. It's Mrs. Peters calling."
As if from the first syllable I wouldn't recognize that deep, soft,
sexy, voice.
"I was wondering if you could come over later. Perhaps you would
care to eat with us again."
"I really appreciate the invitation Mrs. Peters, but I'm not sure
that it's a good idea."
There was silence to on the line. She must have been more shocked
than I was that my neocortex was working that day.
"Are you. are you sure, Mr. Barnes?"
I wondered if anyone had ever refused Mrs. Peters anything.
"Yes, Mrs. Peters. I'm really flattered, but there are. ethical
considerations."
My heartbeat had increased just talking to her. I wondered if I was
a total fool as I put down the phone.
At about 5 PM, just as I was preparing to leave for home, she turned
up in the flesh. Oh God, her exquisite flesh.
She had the child with her in a carriage. She was wearing a white
dress that covered her nearly completely, yet left her completely
sexy. It was hard to imagine an outfit that could hide her
statuesque, curvaceous figure.
She was radiant, a woman made for mothering.
"Mrs. Peters! How can I help you?"
The look. She was giving me the look again. I might be able to
deny her on the phone, but face-to-face.
"I want you, Mr. Barnes. I don't know why, but I want you."
"Why, Mrs. Peters? Your husband is tall and handsome. I'm short and
old. You have your child now, what do you want from me?"
She unlocked her eyes from mine, releasing me. She turned, staring
out the window. I couldn't help but notice the beautiful round
globes of her ass through her dress.
"It's fair question, Mr. Barnes. I don't know exactly what I want
from you. I want you to come home with me, and do to me what you
did before. After that, I don't know."
The neocortex was grinding to a halt.
"You're a woman, Mrs. Peters. You have a new child. This
is no time to put your relationship in jeopardy."
And I had a job that I didn't want to put in jeopardy.
"Don't worry about my marriage, Mr. Barnes. And don't you think you
should call me Jane?"
She was standing close to me again. Too close. The office door was
open.
"It's my job to worry about your marriage, Mrs. Peters."
I actually enjoyed calling her "Mrs. Peters". Aside from the fact
that obviously wound her up a little, it somehow made everything
even more twisted.
"My husband doesn't mind."
"Do you two have an open relationship?"
"No"
"You told me he cheated on you, and now you were even."
"I lied."
Her breath was in my throat again. She filled my vision; who would
want to see anything else?
"Tell me." I said.
"When I told my husband how far I had gone to keep you waiting for
him, it turned him on. He had hinted at such things before, but I
didn't think he would really like it, me being with someone else.
But he did. The fact that it was you really excites him."
"Why?"
"Because it's unimaginable that a like you could turn me on.
Unimaginable to my husband, I mean. My husband is a white
man, who can't imagine that all women are not only attracted to
young white men. I think that's why. Or maybe he just doesn't feel
threatened by you, that I might leave him or something I mean."
Her eyes had bored strait through my skull by then. Resistance was
futile.
"We came into town on the train. Do you think you could drive us
back home?"
We talked some more in the car. Drivel, mainly. She wore no
perfume, but her scent was driving me mad.
"When will your husband come home?" I asked her as we neared her
house.
"He's home now."
"I don't feel very comfortable knowing he's just upstairs. Couldn't
we leave the baby with him, and go to a motel or something?"
"But he wants to watch."
"Shit."
"Can you handle it?"
"I'm not sure. This is pretty warped."
Her hand was on my knee. Stroking my leg through my trousers.
Resistance was futile.
We ate dinner first. The baby had to be fed, changed, and put to
bed. Thankfully, Dr. Peters did it, leaving me alone with his
instead of the other way around.
"Let's go up to my bedroom." She said.
The look. Predatory determination. Lust.
We were naked, petting on the bed when Dr. Peters entered the
bedroom. He was hesitant, unconfident in his own home. Jane froze,
in my arms, her hand on my cock. I guess I froze too. This was a
first for all of us.
"Sit down, honey." She said to him.
He said in the chair close by. Her hand hadn't moved. His eyes
were glued to it, to my black penis in his wife's white hand.
She stared at him strangely as she stroked me. Watching his
reaction, curious to see if it was really true, if he could be
turned on my something so sordid.
I wasn't very happy with the situation, at first. But after awhile,
it wasn't so bad. This guy had everything that I didn't; looks,
youth, brains, money. But for this short time, I had his wife.
Tonight, whitey could envy my big black dick.
"Does, um, does anybody have a condom?" I asked.
"No, baby." Mrs. Peters replied. "I don't like it with a condom. I
like feel it when you shoot it out."
How could any refuse such a woman when she asks him for his
seed?
I'm sorry to say it, but it just wasn't as good with him there. I
tried to get into it, exhibitionism, cuckold husband, all that shit.
But I really just wanted to screw Janey. I think she got off on it
though. I can't say she was more turned on the she had been the
last time, but she was turned on.
The good doctor sat silently as his my cock, as I pushed
it into her willing once again. As she came twice, her white
hands wandering over my black body, overtly enjoying not only my
sexual organ, but all of me.
When I was done, when I'd shot my load into her once more, she
gently pushed me over onto my back next to her. She held her arms
out to her husband, and I saw he was naked, his white dick
completely stiff.
He plowed into her with no preamble; he stuck it straight in and
fucked her. As his white ass was pounding up and down, she held his
head against her shoulder, and looked at me, a happy smile on her
face.
I didn't quite figure it out at the time, but I realized later that
there was no desire in that smile. But she was happy, happy for
him. Those poor rich people.
We got together several more times, but I wanted to move on in my
life. I was looking for someone to I could live with, and that was
hard to do while I was mired in this twisted sexual scene.
These encounters were pretty much like the last one that I've
already described, but it did escalate a little. And I got more
into it. I realized I started to like it, Dr. Peters watching us.
I liked to watch his face as he stared at his giving me head.
I started to kiss her and fondle her as soon as I came in their
place, and hold her hand during dinner. That really wound him up.
The last time we got together, Janey even started taunting him;
"Look at this honey!" She said, holding my dick, rubbing it against
her face.
"Don't you think it's gorgeous? It's so big and hard and black. Do
you want to see me suck on it, honey? Go on, you can say it. You
want to see me suck on it, don't you? You like to watch me suck on
this big black dick."
His mouth moved, but I didn't hear any sound come out. Jane just
giggled and went ahead anyway.
And when I was going down on her; "Oh baby, you're so good that!
Honey, he's really good at this. I wish you were this good!"
And later on, before I entered her cunt, she was rubbing it up and
down against her entrance. She liked that.
"Do you want a see him push it in me, honey? I just love it when he
pushes that big thing inside of me. You want to see that, don't
you? You love to see your getting fucked by a black man, don't
you honey?"
I have to admit, sexually, it all turned me on like crazy. But at
the same time, I knew this wasn't going to lead to something that
would make me happy in the longer term.
I told them both that it had been great, and no hard feelings I
hoped, but I had to call an end to it.
Jane phoned me a couple of months later.
"There's something you should know."
"Say it."
"I'm pregnant."
"It often happens in cases like yours. Once there is a baby in the
house, and the stress is off, lots of adoptive find
themselves with a second baby."
"I believe I got pregnant the day before the baby arrived at this
house."
I was invited to the new baby's christening about six months after
that.
I wondered how they would explain her giving birth to a black baby.
The adopted child was colored, no problem there. But giving birth
to a colored child, well, I suppose they could tell everyone that
the second child was also adopted.
I was pretty surprised when I saw the child at the church. He was
lily white, blond, and blue-eyed.
I almost cried with laughter, and I wish that apparently happy
family all the best from the bottom of my heart.
Ace 2000
The rest of my are at;
http://www.asstr.org/~aceinthe_hole//
It is a free, absolutely non-commercial site. But if you like my
stories, and would like to tell me so, then I would be glad that I'
ve put in the time to share it with you all.
Email; aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com
Thanks.