The Resort

The interviewer smiled. I hadn't planned out what I was going to say, that all just came pouring out of me. And it wasn't until I had said it that I realized it was true. I needed this. I had been acting like this was Dave's fantasy, but in the year and a half I had been waiting for this moment, my need for this outgrew even his. The desire in me was so slutty, so taboo, so wrong. And so completely overpowering.

I swear the cock pressed up against my pussy pulsed as I finished my little speech. But he made no move to put it in me, as badly as I wanted him to. There was something I needed to do first.

"As you know, staying at the Resort is a serious business. Only women who are utterly determined to be bred by black men can do so here. You seem like you're determined, but as you know, we expect our clients to make a serious commitment. Are you ready to do so?"

I had butterflies in my stomach, and not just because his cockhead was rubbing against my clit. I swallowed hard. "I am."

"And how would you like to show your commitment?"

Every visit to the Resort included a commitment, and on subsequent visits, I'd have several choices — tattooing, branding, piercing. Sometimes if you had long enough hair, shaving it off would count. But you had to offer up part of your body, to be changed in some way, before you could offer up your womb.

First timers had to get a tattoo, and it had to be a permanent declaration of your love for black men, and black cock in particular. Subsequent ones could be words or pictures, so long as they were sexual in nature. Months ago, I had decided on a simple "I love black dick" on my ass. But something about the other women's stories made me change my mind. It was an impulsive decision, and one I hoped I wouldn't regret later. Maybe the massive black cock still rubbing against my sex was clouding my judgement. But I told him what I wanted, and once the words left me, it was too late to take them back.

"I want a tattoo right above my pussy: Black Cock Only."

I wondered how my husband would deal with that. I intended to live by it. He was the one who wanted me fucking black men in the first place, so he'd have to deal with me fucking them exclusively. He could still have my ass. There was something I liked about Molly's idea of black men's sperm soaking into my womb, remaining a part of me, while my husband's would all be shit out eventually. I knew he'd be turned on by the idea, even if he didn't want to lose access to my pussy. Well, fuck it. It was my pussy. And my pussy was hungry for black dick.

Twenty minutes later, a bandage was covering up my tattoo. The artist — a different black man than the one who interviewed me — did a nice-looking job, and I barely noticed the pain. I was consumed by lust, watching the tattoo artist's muscular chest, and the interviewer's cock across the room. He stayed with me for the duration, and even only semi-hard he was bigger than my husband. I fantasized about both of them taking me, putting their seed in me. I wondered if either of them would be the father of my baby.

I had gone off the pill three months earlier, to prepare my body for breeding. I had put my lovers on hold, and made my husband use a condom, to make sure I didn't get pregnant by accident before I came to the resort. But as my body was flooded anew with hormones, I started craving sex. I had felt those hormones with my first two children, but it was more intense this time. My body wanted another baby, badly, and my womb wanted to be filled with sperm. Now that I was on the verge of getting what I needed, I could barely stand the anticipation.

But still, I had to wait. The two men led me back to the resort's lobby, where the other women were led in one by one. The tattoo artist removed my bandage, and the other girls applauded when they saw "black cock only" written across my lower belly. One by one, the others revealed their latest commitments. Nima had shiny new rings in both nipples — she said she alternated between tattoos and piercings. Sung had "black bred" tattooed on her inner thigh — she planned on adding that day's date if her breeding was successful. Molly had "I need black cum" stenciled on her ass. Peggy showed off a freshly-pierced labia; two rings, both on the left side. Unsurprisingly, Melissa's was the most elaborate — her right hip now sported a detailed tattoo of herself, naked, on all fours, being fucked from behind by a muscular black man. She could cover it up easily enough at work, but in a swimsuit, or even low-rise jeans, she wouldn't be able to help showing off her proclivities to the world. The slave girl had the most shocking commitment, though — a brand on her ass, in some abstract symbol that presumably meant something to her master. Whatever her game was, I was glad I wasn't playing.

Once we had a few minutes to check each other out, one of the men spoke. "Now. Are we ready to do what we all came here for?" Before I got a chance to respond to that, I felt strong arms around my waist, and hands roaming across my belly. They moved up towards my breasts, as an unseen man kissed my neck. My pussy had been damp all morning, in anticipation of what was going to happen, and now that it was finally here, I was on fire. At long last, I was going to be black bred.

The furniture in the lounge was entirely made up of low couches, with no back, like oversized ottomans. I suddenly realized why, as the man behind me bent me over one of them. Each of the other women got the same treatment, and I realized they had arranged us in a circle — I could see the black men getting ready to fuck each of the other girls, but not the one behind me. More men stood behind them, waiting their turn, cocks erect — none of them small. These other women were going to watch me being bred, and I was going to watch them. I was glad this intensely personal moment, this turning point in my life, was going to be shared with women who knew exactly the tumult of emotions I was feeling right now.

The man holding me from behind grabbed my hips. I felt a fat cockhead slide in between my pussy lips. It was finally happening. After so many months of anticipation, I was being bred with a black baby. The cock inside me went deep, and even as wet as I was, he was thick enough that I felt resistance. I felt deliciously stretched out, and I savored every stroke of his cock inside me. He picked up the pace and eventually his cockhead started tapping my cervix on every downstroke. The pain just intensified the experience, and feeling my cervix made me acutely aware that at any moment, he was going to shoot a load of sperm directly into my fertile womb, in search of a waiting egg. I looked up, and my sisters in this depraved act were having equally intense experiences, from the looks on their faces, and the incoherent moans coming out of their mouths.

Molly started murmuring, "please... please...", and soon others joined the redhead in vocalizing their most forbidden desires. I heard Melissa moan, "cum deep inside me. Fill me with your seed." And without hardly realizing it, I heard myself crying out, "Breed me! Put your baby in me! Give me a black baby! Give me a black baby!" By the second time, I could barely get the words out, I was cumming so hard. That must have pushed the stud buried in my cunt over the edge, as I felt his cock spasming, as wave after wave of hot, thick, creamy sperm coated my insides. I came down from my orgasm a changed woman. There was no going back for me. I was going to have a black baby.

I wondered if I was fully ready for the consequences of that, or whether my husband fully understood where his fantasy had led us. For the rest of our lives, there would be no hiding the fact that I had cuckolded him, and willingly had another man's baby, with my husband's consent. He would spend his life raising a baby that was unmistakably the product of my coupling with another man — men, in fact — and he could never again, for a moment, pretend he had a faithful wife, or pretend that he objected to my sluttiness.

And I could never pretend to be anything other than a slut. But that's the way I wanted it. Maybe not when this all started, but by the time that first load of African sperm hit my fertile womb, I was fully committed to being a slut for black cocks. Everyone I knew — friends, parents, co-workers — would know exactly how I had gotten pregnant, how much I enjoyed it, and how my husband had encouraged it. Just like Annie had, I'd encourage my friends to take their turn being black bred. I was a slut for black cocks, and within a few days, the sperm soaking into my womb would find a waiting egg, and I'd be a pregnant slut.

To insure that happened, I'd need a lot more potent sperm in my womb, and the men at the resort were happy to oblige. No sooner did the first man slowly slide his cock from the depths of my womb, when another took its place. Not quite as long, but fatter. I savored the feeling of being stretched out by this huge black phallus, knowing that not a drop of sperm from my first fuck was going to escape, since my pussy was plugged airtight. He began thrusting into me powerfully, stretching my pussy on every downstroke. Soon I'd have millions more sperm inside of me, competing to fertilize my egg, ensuring that I'd never know who the father of my baby was.

This was my life now. This was what I wanted. I moaned aloud, letting the other women know how much I was enjoying the cock that was stretching me out. I looked up and saw Sung tense up with an orgasm, before the man fucking her filled her womb with cum. Molly repeated "cum in me, fill me with your seed, I want your baby," again and again in a whisper until her man obliged. Nima had climbed on top of her man and was rubbing her clit while riding him energetically. One by one, I watched each woman get her second load of black sperm, while the assault on my pussy continued unabated. Eventually, we were the only ones still fucking, and all eyes were on me. To my surprise, I found being watched like this, a whole room full of people watching me being taken roughly from behind, intensely erotic. I was engaging in the sluttiest, most depraved behavior of my life, and I was doing it in front of an audience, and I was loving every second of it.

Finally, he drove his cock deep inside of me, and I felt a torrent of hot, potent sperm flood my innermost recesses. I wondered how much sperm I'd have inside me by the time I fell asleep tonight, and whether I'd have a baby growing inside me when I woke up.

Another man took his turn inside me, and then another, and another, and another. Six loads of sperm in all, six potential fathers for my baby. My pussy was a sloppy mess, and my body was sweaty and sore, but satisfied. Each of the women here had taken six loads of sperm in our fertile, unprotected wombs, and each of us would drift off to sleep wondering whether we had been bred successfully. We were sent to separate bedrooms, alone, so I lay in a warm bed, sheets sticking to my sweaty, cum-covered skin, my body missing the touch of black hands, and my pussy missing being filled with black cock. But there was always tomorrow...

The rest of the week followed the same routine; wake up sticky and sore, have a nice hot shower, have a big breakfast, fuck the cook or the waiter on the breakfast table, have a nice, relaxing massage, then a slow, intense fuck with the masseuse, a dip in the pool, and then another load of sperm from the lifeguard. On this went through the day, with each of us usually fucking four or five of the men. In between turns being bred, we'd compare notes on the men, or how our pussies felt after being pounded so often and filled with so much black sperm. We'd talk dreamily about the babies we imagined must already be growing in our wombs.

Then in the late afternoon, we'd gather in the main room for what I began to think of as the ceremony — bent over those couches in a circle, watching each other as we got fucked by six different men. Usually at least one man would come back for seconds, sometimes more than one. After that we went straight to dinner, without cleaning up. There was no dinner table. We'd each sit on a chaise lounge, tilted backwards so no precious black seed would leak out of our wombs. We'd each have one of our black lovers feeding us by hand, while we lay back and relaxed, luxuriating in the feeling of our bodies absorbing six or more copious loads of potent African seed. Usually after we ate, our server would have the energy for one more go-around, and we'd go to bed, sweaty, sticky, and freshly-fucked — the way every girl should go to bed every night she can manage.

All in all, each of us got at least a dozen loads of sperm a day in our fertile, unprotected wombs, on a daily basis. I knew that even with all that cum inside me, pregnancy wasn't a guarantee — the body rejects a fertilized egg half the time, so my odds were 50/50 at best. I was torn between wanting another baby so badly, and hoping I wasn't pregnant so I'd get to go through this all again in a few months. The resort guaranteed results, so I had a standing appointment every other month until I was in the club.

I promised myself one thing, pregnant or not, this wasn't going to be my last visit to the resort. We had always talked about stopping after three kids, but there was no way I wasn't going to experience this again. Dave was just going to have to get used to the idea of a big family. Everything about this week — the marathon of sex, the likelihood of an illicit pregnancy, bonding with the other women, even being permanently marked by the tattoo — taken together, it was the most intense experience of my life, and I vowed I would repeat the experience as often as I could.

But mostly it was the sex. Sex without love, without a relationship, purely for one purpose, to breed me. To put a baby in my belly. A baby who's father would never be known to me. A baby whose appearance would bring scandal and shame, no doubt, but would also prove my husband's utmost devotion to me, and my devotion to the depraved, taboo, utterly thrilling lifestyle we had chose.

Finally, the week came to an end. Every part of my body was sore, but satisfied. By my count, I had taken about ninety loads of black seed in the span of seven days. I probably orgasmed even more times than that. I'm pretty sure I ovulated on day two, so that egg was assaulted by a tsunami of sperm, and had almost certainly been fertilized. But I didn't have to wonder any more. The moment of truth had arrived.

Seven ceramic basins were arranged on the floor in place of the low couches. We were each handed a plastic stick and instructed to squat over one. The most advanced pregnancy tests on the market could tell within a few days of conception, so if any of us had been bred successfully, we were about to find out.

Sung must have had to go, because she started pissing the moment they handed her the stick. Slave had probably been trained to do so, because she squatted down and pissed in front of everyone without flinching. As brazen as Melissa was, she was adorably shy about peeing in front of everyone. But after a minute of nervousness, I had no trouble releasing my bladder in front of the assembled crowd of potential mothers and fathers.

The wait was excruciating — the longest three minutes of my life. I could feel my heart pounding, and I could see the conflicting emotions on the faces of the other women. Finally, I heard a whoop of delight from Nima. "I did it! I'm pregnant!" A smile broke across Melissa's face. "Looks like I'm having a black baby!" Molly burst into tears, and I assumed the worst, but they were tears of joy. The newlywed was overcome with emotion at the thought of the child growing inside of her. Slave didn't make a sound, but I saw a look of quiet acceptance and even the hint of a smile on her face, and I knew she was in the club too. Peggy was the most relaxed of the bunch, having already been through this twice. "Well, boys, looks like you knocked me up again!" Sung just walked from one man to another, half in a daze, repeating, "thank you, thank you," while kissing the men, stroking their cocks, and letting them run their hands over her soon-to-be swollen belly and breasts.

All of our bellies were going to be swelling soon. I looked away from the jubilant women and into my hands. A bright pink plus stared back at me. I had a baby growing inside of me. I had been black bred.

* * * * *

Every head turned as I walked through the airport. Part of the resort's expensive service was a trip back to my home city in a small private plane. I'm sure I wouldn't have been allowed on a commercial flight dressed as I was. The clothes I'd worn originally had been shipped back to my husband, just as a reminder that his wife would be naked and available at all times. When we left the resort, each of us were only wearing three things: Every girl left the resort wearing a pair of pink panties, which had printed on the front "full of black seed." Every girl that was successfully bred wore a low-cut tank top that stopped short of her flat-for-now stomach, which read in big bold letters, "black baby on board." And because every woman in the group had caught — a rarity, even at the resort — we were each given a special gift, a diamond ankle bracelet. Ankle bracelets, of course, were what married women wore to signal to men that they were available for extramarital sex. I didn't plan on taking mine off any time soon.

That was it. Three things. No skirt, no pants, not even shoes. I was a bit worried airport security would stop me, but apart from lots of stares, no one bothered me. Dave lit up when he saw me. When he saw the shirt, and understood exactly what it meant. He kissed me passionately, grabbing my panty-clad ass in front of everyone. Anyone who had read the shirt and now saw me kissing my white husband would know exactly what the score was. That just made things even more exciting. Dave even slipped a hand under my shirt and stroked one of my breasts for a moment. I didn't care who saw. I was his black bred slut — no behavior was too shameless for me now.

Finally, we broke the kiss, and I said out loud, loud enough for people passing by to hear: "We're having a black baby!"

I thought he was going to come in his pants right then and there. "Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. I'm so happy. I watched every minute of it online — you really are the sexiest woman in the world. And you're even sexier with a pregnant glow."

I was beaming. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear — I had been gangbanged and knocked up with a black baby, and my white husband loved me more than ever. But I had to see how far his devotion would go. Still standing in the airport terminal, I pulled down the front of my panties, just enough so he could see the tattoo: "Black Cock Only."

"Oh, sweetie, that is so fucking sexy."

"Just so you know, I plan on living by those words. From now on, I'm going to have lots of black cocks in my pussy, and you're never going to fuck me there again. My mouth and my ass are still fine, but my pussy belongs to black men, now and forever."

I braced myself for his reaction, and to be honest, I would have backed down if he had objected. But he just held me close and kissed me again. "You are so fucking sexy." I could feel his erection press into my belly as he held me.

So that was that. For the next few months, I went back to fucking my black lovers regularly — they were all disappointed I hadn't let any of them get me pregnant, but they all loved the tattoo. Dave either got a blowjob while I had a black cock inside of me, or he jerked off onto my pregnant belly while I recounted my adventures at the Resort, or while we watched the videos of my breeding — as it turns out, over seven days at the resort, I spent nearly a full 24 hours with a cock inside of me, so we had lots of video to choose from. I spent as much time as I could naked, teasing my husband with my pregnant body. He found my round belly and swollen breasts sexy every time I was pregnant, but this time things were far more intense, since there was no chance of it being his baby growing inside me.