AN EROTIC STORY HOSTED BY IMPREGNORIUM.NET

     Margie Porter entered her home exhausted and settled her keys down on the shelf, shaking her head to clear it of the humidity she’d faced outside.

      It was then she froze and frowned, sniffing the air.  The faint odor of one of Jack’s cigars was clearly unmistakable.  But Jack’s car wasn’t parked outside.  In fact, he wasn’t even due home for another few days.

      Curious, Margie followed her nose, going upstairs until she reached her bedroom door.  And then she froze again.

      “What . . . ?”

      It was practically the last thing she expected to see.  Vincent Hines was casually sitting in the bedroom chair near the window.  Calmly smoking one of Jack’s cigars and nodding at her. 

      Margie simply stood there, trying to free herself from the shock.  But it did no good as, try as she did, he was still there.  Vincent was one of the instructors at the college her daughter Joanna was attending.  A tall black man, at least six foot, and very solidly built.   He was in his mid-thirties . . . Margie guessed he was only a few years younger than herself . . . and had never before came anywhere near the house.  At least not while she or Jack had been around.

      But she knew about Vincent.  Oh yes.  Joanna talked constantly about him, going on and on in glowing terms about how wonderful he was.  Even more, Joanna had mentioned the “close personal attention” which Vincent had been giving her, and Margie had come to suspect that the “attention” was going far beyond academic assistance.  In fact she had already made up her mind to have some words with the University officials, as well as with her daughter.

      And here he was now, sitting in her bedroom.  Dressed in a simple t-shirt and slacks, his feet in a pair of plain blue boat shoes.

      “Wh--what . . .”

      “Hello, Margie,” he said, taking the cigar out and placing it in a nearby ashtray.

      “What are you doing here?” Margie asked, practically biting off each word.

      “Waiting for you,” he replied simply.  “Joanna gave me a key and I decided to make myself at home.”

      Oh God.  He’d been here with Joanna.  The two of them alone.  Doing Lord knows what.  Margie looked around, almost expecting Joanna to suddenly appear.

      “She’s not here, Margie,” Vincent said, apparently sensing her thoughts.  “You and I are alone for a while.”

      Something resembling normalcy returned to Margie and she was managing to free herself of her earlier shock.  “Well I’m going to call the police,” she declared, moving towards the phone.

      Vincent tilted his head to one side, appearing slightly amused.  “Why?”

      “You’re here,” she shouted, her hand almost at the phone.

      “Joanna was the one who invited me to come here,” he pointed out calmly.  “Please hear me out.  I want to tell you why I’m here.”

      Margie’s fingers were already brushing against the phone, but part of her desperately wanted to know the reason for this man’s presence in her house.  In her bedroom.  She willed herself to remain where she was, staring tight-lipped at the man.

      “I’ve seen you a couple of times on the campus,” Vincent casually explained.  “And Joanna has spoken often about you.”

      Margie slowly straightened up, her arms crossing.  “And?  What else have you and Joanna being doing?”

      Vincent seemed amused at the remark.  “I have an idea what you’ve been thinking.  And, as much as I appreciate how Joanna looks, nothing like that has been going on between us.”

      “Oh I’ll just bet,” Margie hissed.

      “It’s true,” Vincent continued.  “I will confess that I have had thought about your daughter in that sort of way---”

      “Aha!”

      “But let me finish and then, if you still wish, I’ll go ahead and leave.  As I’ve said, Joanna has talked a lot about you.  Also about you and her father.”

      In spite of the situation, Margie felt an enormous blush starting to work its way through her body.  “What do you mean---”

      “I mean,” Vincent said, “Joanna has told me that you and your husband don’t enjoy much in the way of personal relations anymore.”

      The blush blossomed throughout Margie’s body.  “She---”

      “She’s observed.  She’s listened.  Joanna’s really quite an intelligent girl.  Perhaps far more than either you or your husband give her credit for.”

      It had been years since Margie had felt the need to spank her daughter, but the urge was rising within her now.

      “Joanna’s also explained,” Vincent slowly said, “about your desire to have another baby.”

      “Oh God,” Margie moaned.  Her daughter had been talking so freely.  With an outsider.  “Oh she shouldn’t have---”

      “But she did.  And personally I think it’s marvelous.  I also happen to agree with Joanna that it’s a shame you haven’t convinced your husband to go along with the idea.”

      “This is really none of your business.”

      “Oh I agree.”  Vincent nodded.  “I definitely agree.  And normally I wouldn’t get involved in something like this.  But two things have brought me to do so.  The first is that, naturally, I consider myself a friend of Joanna.”

      Margie hadn’t quite recovered from the surprise of discovering Vincent in the room, but her curiosity was admittedly piqued.  “And the other thing?”

      Vincent sighed, looking rather serious.  “The other thing is that I’m very attracted to you.”

      The blush which Margie had thought she’d conquered was making itself known once again, this time accompanied by an icy snake of fear.  “Attracted . . .”

      “To you, yes,” Vincent said with a nod.  “And I know, this isn’t the way this sort of thing should happen or be normally discussed.”

      “You need to get out---”

      “Please.”  Vincent raised a hand.  “Let me finish.”

      Margie forced herself to remain still, glaring at the intruder.

      “Joanna tells me you’re quite desperate to have another baby.  As I said, I think that’s wonderful.”  To Margie’s amazement he reached down and, before her eyes, slowly peeled the t-shirt off of his body.  He tossed it aside, but Margie’s eyes were fixed on the sight of his broad black chest.  She wanted to move her gaze aside, was only able to as she saw him slipping the shoes off of his feet.

      Her eyes finally moved elsewhere slightly, only to become fixed upon the upper portion of Vincent’s slacks.  She could feel her mouth growing dry as she saw the unmistakable sign of male arousal pressing up inside the material.

      It was at this moment that his hands were reaching for the front of his slacks.  He was going to open them.  In front of her!

      “Oh, God.  You’re going to rape me!”

      Vincent paused, looking up at her.  “No, Margie.  I’m not.  I’m just going to show you what I honestly think you want to see.”

      His voice was low and steady and calm, the words reaching out to touch Margie and soothe her.  She felt herself wanting to relax but, behind that, she felt herself wanting to see just how far this man would go.  The curiosity was something new, or something which had been buried very deep inside of her and was now growing.

      In either case she found she couldn’t move and stood there, watching, as Vincent opened his slacks fully, and then smoothly pushed them down his legs.  He sat there before her, nude, and her eyes were possessed by the sight of the thick black cock he now revealed.  It was clearly ten inches long, at first sight even bigger to Margie’s wide eyes.  Uncircumcised and fully erect.  The warm looking balls hanging swollen beneath it.

      “Ohhhhhh . . .”  The sound was long and drawn out from Margie’s throat as she stared.  The whole thing frightened her immensely . . . the notion of this black man sitting naked in her bedroom.  But what frightened her even more was the slow rush of warmth growing between her legs.  The aching in her belly . . .

      And her marriage bed so near.

      She closed her mind to the thoughts.  Tried to.

      “Please,” she whispered.  “Please don’t.”

      “I’m not going to touch you, Margie,” Vincent said, his voice still gentle and low.  “Not until the moment occurs.  And not unless you truly want to.  I’m just showing you what you could have right now.  I can tell you’re actually enjoying the sight.  At least by the way your nipples are rising.”

      Margie silently cursed.  But he was right.  Her nipples were indeed becoming hard.  And her body was growing warmer.

      “Listen to me,” Vincent softly said.  “I know you want a baby.  Badly.  You suspect your husband won’t give you another one.  I know a black man’s baby isn’t the sort of alternative you’ve had in mind, but I’m offering it to you if you’d like.  No strings, no pressure.

      “If you want, I can get dressed right now and leave and we won’t talk of this ever again.  It won’t even have happened.  But if you wish . . . if you’d like to take the chance . . . then all you have to do is undress and go to the bed and give yourself to me.  Freely.  Without reservation.  It wouldn’t be rape, Margie because, as I said, I won’t even lay a hand on you unless you do this and unless you want me.”  He let out a sigh.  “There.”

      “Mister Hines,” Margie slowly said.

      “Vincent,” he corrected with a smile.

      “Vincent,” she automatically replied.  She tried to swallow, barely succeeded.  “I wish . . . I don’t want . . .”

      Vincent patiently waited while she tried to speak, clearly noticing that she was finding it difficult to do so.

      “Margie . . .”

      She met his eyes.

      “I can get you pregnant,” he promised her.  “You know it would happen with us.”  With a hand he lightly fondled his erection.  “This could clearly do the job.  And it wants to.  Very much.”

      Margie felt she could still run.  Could still get to someplace safe if she wanted to.

      Her mind wrapped itself around the end of that thought: if she wanted to.

      She could also simply go and lie down on the bed . . .

      Simply!

      Letting him do it.  Make her belly swell with another man’s baby.  A black one.  Her mind stared ahead down the long and difficult path.  But her eyes were also staring at the gift he was clearly offering.

      He said he wouldn’t touch her unless . . .

      And he hadn’t.

      “Undress for me, Margie,” Vincent calmly asked.  “Please.”

      Her fingers were already moving up.  She was fighting to try and keep them still but they were betraying her as they plucked at the buttons of her blouse, opening them.

      His smile was growing.  “There you go,” he whispered.  “Just think of my thick seed going into you.  Deeply.”

      His words were caressing her the way Jack’s hands hadn’t done in so very long, making her fingers hurry as they trembled down her blouse.  She had sometimes thought about taking a lover, and even fantasized becoming pregnant by another man . . .

      But it had never gone beyond that.  And certainly not with him.  Not a black man.

      But he was quietly sitting there, offering himself.  His cock was all up and ready, and Margie knew that, in an hour, maybe even less, she could clearly have a child growing in her again.

      She wept a little as her hands opened her blouse, pulling it loose and letting it fall to the floor.

      “Tell me what you want, Margie,” Vincent asked.

      She shook her head, a few tears leaking down her cheeks as her hands now moved to open her skirt.

      Vincent seemed to read the emotional storm inside her.  “I won’t pressure.”

      And she knew he spoke the truth.  If it happened it would be because she was offering an open invitation to her body.  The material of her skirt rustled, and it joined her blouse on the floor, leaving her in her under things, stockings and shoes.

      His eyes were quietly devouring her, his fingertips lightly brushing his cock.

      Watching him she slowly reached behind her and fumbled at the fastenings for her bra.  “You won’t hurt me?”

      He slowly shook his head.  Her fingers fumbled a bit more and then her bra opened and fell off, letting her breasts spill out into the open, allowing him to see the eager hardness of her pale nipples against the creamy flesh.

      “Beautiful,” he murmured.  “They deserve to have a baby nursing on them.”

      His eyes went down and she blushed, knowing full well he could make out the moist spot on the material.  Feeling much warmer, she kept her eyes on him as her hands touched the silk, taking it and easing it down her legs, feeling like a young girl.

      A very long pause . . . an attempt to gain control over another deep blush . . . and she straightened up to meet his eyes.

      “Oh so beautiful,” he breathed.

      Her pulse was racing inside her.  She was struggling between wanting to cover herself with her hands and wanting him to see all of her.  A part of her searched for the earlier desire to turn and run.  It was located, but it was now hiding deep in her psyche, drawing further away with every moment.

      I just might do it, she found herself thinking madly.  I just might betray Jack with this man.

      Despite the burst of courage, though, her feet remained where they were.  They did take the effort, however, of slipping out of her shoes.

      Her hands then resumed motion, reaching for the tops of her stockings, but he shook his head.  “Leave them on,” he asked.  “It’ll feel so exciting.”

      In his mind he already had them making love.  Margie gulped, glancing from him over to where the bed waited.

      “Vincent, I . . .”

      “I know,” he said.  “I know it’s difficult.  I want you to believe that this wasn‘t something I came up with at the spur of the moment.  My original conditions still stand.  We can still end this and go our separate ways.  Perhaps you’d like some time to think this over and, if you wish, we can try again later.  I want to be completely fair with you, Margie.  If this happens I don’t want half measures or teases.  I want you to understand that, if you decide to go through with this, it’s because you want my seed inside you.  That’s what’ll happen on the bed.”

      No foreplay, no caresses or promises of love . . . and yet Vincent’s words were so very sensual and romantic to Margie’s ears.  She almost wished he would come to her and try to force her.  It would be so easy then.  But everything was going to be because of what she decided.

      Her lips parted.  “Wh-what do I do?”

      Vincent smiled.  “What do you want to do, Margie?  I’d like to hear it from you.  Or have you give permission with your body.”

      Margie nervously licked at her lips.  Feeling as if she was going to fall over at any moment she took a single step towards the bed.  Another.  Putting herself between it and him.

      “That’s it, lover.”

      She paused, totally uncertain now.  Feeling incredibly virginal.  “How . . . I mean, what do you . . . ?”

      “Take a pillow,” Vincent explained carefully.  “Kneel down on the bed and lie over the pillow with your legs open.  That’ll tell me what you want and also give me the best position to enter you.”

      Standing at the edge of the bed, Margie reached over and took one of her pillows, positioning it.  Then, letting out a low final moan, she moved her knees up onto the edge of the bed and laid forward, her stomach resting on the pillow.

      Slowly, feeling this was the last ounce of resistance on her part, Margie allowed her thighs to open, revealing herself fully to the man she knew was staring closely at her.

      “That’s it,” he breathed, and she heard the rustle of his standing up from the chair.  “You want my cock.  You want me to put a baby in your sweet body.”

      She had clasped her hands tight together and was resting her forehead upon them, her eyes closed and her heart thumping wildly inside her.  A pause, and then she gasped as she felt his touch for the first time.  His large hands warm upon her bottom.  Lightly caressing her, making her tremble.

      The hands moved lower, explored carefully between her legs, and she bit her lip as she felt his fingertips nestling in her slit.

      “So warm and wet,” he murmured.  “I guessed you’re fertile right now, Margie.  Am I correct?”

      Hot currents from his touch caused her head to bob.

      “Give me permission, Margie.  It’s still not too late to back out.”

      Oh God!  Margie squeezed her eyes shut.  “Vincent.”

      A fingertip was slowly slipping up and down the entrance to her sex.

      “Please.”

      The fingertip eased a bit into her, withdrew.  Entered her again.  Withdrew.

      “Please put a baby in me.”

      One of his hands left her and she tried to control her breathing.  Then she felt the tip of him moving into the moist tangle of her pussy hairs.  Exploring deeper, then nestling within the soft wanting folds of her slit.  Another exquisite pause, and then she felt herself slowly being stretched wide open and a moan eased out from her mouth, the sound rising as, bit by bit, the hot thickness of him pushed into her.

      And now his moan joined hers.

      “So good,” he breathed.  His hips pushed, and another inch of him slid into her body.  “So sweet and tight.”

      She couldn’t believe how he was continuing to enter.  Surely there had to be an end to the thing that was sliding deeper into her body.  Long before now Jack would‘ve stopped and would‘ve begun fucking her.  But Vincent was continuing to fill her body and she felt herself melting at the feel of her pussy tightly caressing the long hardness, his tip easing more and more into her, finally pressing tightly against her cervix, her clitty being closely and lovingly caressed by the smooth heat of him.

      “Yes, Margie,” he gasped.  “Take my cock.”

      “I want you,” she finally breathed.  “Oh God, I want you.”

      “Tell me.”

      “Fuck me,” she moaned, feeling her hips beginning to rock forward and back on the bed.  “Fuck me!”  And please hurry before I scream and change my mind, she silently declared. 

      But she knew now that the only screaming to be done was as a result of what Vincent was doing to her.  He was pushing in and out now, vigorously filling her body with his cock, their joined movements causing the bedsprings to begin squealing, the sound competing with their ragged breathing.

      She was finding herself pushing back against him, wanting every sweet inch of his cock, feeling the thick tip pressing through the cervix to lodge firmly within the opening warmth of her aching womb. 

      “My balls are so full,” Vincent said, his hands gripping her waist as he drove into her.  “My black seed.”

      “Yes,” Margie cried.

      “Tell me,” Vincent demanded.  “Tell me where you want it.”

      “My cunny.”

      He thrust harder into her.  “Again.  Where do you want my seed?”

      “My womb,” she finally said, her face rising to stare blindly ahead as she fucked her man.  “Make me pregnant, Vincent.  Put your child into me.”

      “Oh Lord,” he moaned and, with a final shove, pushed himself as deep as he could inside her.  Margie quickly gripped at the sheets, trying to keep from being driven off the other side of the bed, and then her mind boiled as she felt the first thick jet of hot sperm flooding her.  It was followed by another thrust . . . another load of his seed . . . and Margie heard herself crying out loudly as the boiling in her head spilled over into an intense climax, her entire body shuddering, her pussy greedily holding him tightly within her.

      Sometime later . . . seconds or hours . . . she felt herself returning to earth.  To the reality of being naked upon the bed, and of Vincent Hines still buried deep in her body.

      Her womb swollen with the liquid heat of his seed.  Trickles of it even now leaking out and decorating the sheets.

      What have I done? her mind cried.  What have I done?

      But he was now slowly pulling himself out of her, and his arms were gently moving her about so that the two of them could look at each other.  Margie stared up closely now at the man who had just very probably ruined her life.

      Ruined it . . . but there was also the intense glow radiating from deep inside her.  The sweet knowledge that she had quite possibly conceived, that eventually she’d have her desire of a new child.

      His touch was tender upon her cheek, brushing a tear away.

      “Margie---”

      He couldn’t say more as she raised her face and the two of them shared their first kiss, deeply and lingeringly.  Vincent let his arms enfold her more as he carefully eased himself onto the bed, moving the both of them so that they could lie together.

      “Yes,” she whispered, moving to nestle closely.  Pushing guilt away for some other time.  “Yes, darling.”