MY HOTWIFE JOURNEY Pt. 37“Pregnant and owned by a BBC”It’s n..

MY HOTWIFE JOURNEY Pt. 37

“Pregnant and owned by a BBC”

It’s no secret anymore—I’m addicted to Black men.

Every boyfriend I’d had before—and my husband—had been your typical Aussie stereotype. But ever since my first experience with a BBC, something in me changed.

The way it stretched me.
The way it filled me.
The way I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days afterward.

It was more then just sex. It was an awakening.

And during this pregnancy, that craving has only grew stronger. My hormones were wild. My body… sorry, my pussy is always wet. I needed to be filled. I needed to be used.

And the only man I could think about was Mike.

We’d been flirting and messaging for months—dirty, teasing, building tension across states. He was in Melbourne. I was in Sydney.

But then one day, out of nowhere, he messaged me:
“I’m coming north. One day in Sydney. And I want you.”

That was all it took.

This pregnant, married mother of three was about to spend an afternoon being claimed by a man she’d never met in person… but had already imagined in every filthy scenario possible.

When Mike walked through the door, my pussy clenched.

Tall. Dark. Broad. Stereotypical muscle-bound god.

Everything about him made my body react. His deep voice. His confidence. The way he looked at me like he already owned me.

And before I could even say a word—he acted.

He grabbed me by the wrist, turned me around, led me to the bedroom and pushed me down onto my knees.

Not a word spoken. Not a question asked. Just pure, natural dominance.

I looked up at him, heart racing, belly heavy with pregnancy, and felt his cock already thick and hard in front of me.

I opened my mouth and slid him between my lips, tasting the weight of him, the warmth, the size.

His hand moved into my hair, tightening, holding me in place as he started to fuck my throat, slow but deep. I moaned around him, spit pooling at the corners of my mouth as I swallowed him again and again.

From the corner of my eye, I saw hubby.

Not caged this time. But still silent. Still powerless.

He stood against the wall, watching, his cock already twitching. He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch me. He wasn’t even really part of this. Hard, silent, and trembling while I got on my knees for another man—one who was already in control.

This was all Mike.

But Mike wasn’t done showing me who was in charge.

He pulled me off his cock with a wet pop and yanked me to my feet.

Without a word, he dragged me by the hair out of the bedroom and into the living room.

There was a full-length mirror on the wall—perfectly placed.

He stood on the couch, legs spread, cock glistening with my spit, and pointed.

“Kneel. Right there.”

I did what I was told.

He tilted my chin up wards.

“Now suck it. I want to watch.”

My cheeks flushed, but I was already opening my mouth again, sliding him between my lips.

The view was filthy. My pregnant body, on my knees, his thick cock sliding in and out of my mouth, his eyes locked on the reflection as he groaned low and deep.

I loved that he wanted to see me like that. To watch me submit from every angle.

I wrapped my lips around his shaft, tasting myself all over him. My own pussy. My own scent. My own pleasure.

I moaned as I sucked him clean, licking his shaft, teasing the head, my tongue working him until he was throbbing again.

He loved it. His cock pulsing in my mouth, the only sound in the room the wet, messy rhythm of my sucking and his breathing.

He let me work like that for a while, taking my time, letting the pressure build…

And then he pulled me up and dragged me back into the bedroom to finally fuck me.

“I need this pussy,” he murmured, eyes locked on my swollen belly. “So sexy like this.”

He slid inside me in one smooth thrust, and I gasped, the stretch making me grip the sheets.

He was so thick, so deep, and I was already soaked.

It was like my body had been waiting for this. Every muscle, every nerve, every craving—all answered the moment he bottomed out inside me.

He fucked me slowly at first, letting me feel every inch of him, then faster, harder—each thrust making my moans louder.

It didn’t take him long before he wasn’t going slow anymore.

He slammed into me, hard, rough, fast—fucking me like he owned me. My body bounced beneath him, his cock pounding deep, making me cry out again and again.

Hubby stood there watching, lips parted, cock leaking, completely helpless.

And that only made it better.

I was being bred by a better man, and my husband was there to witness it.

Mike shifted beneath me, gripping my waist tightly, and pulled me up.

“Get on top,” he growled, his voice rough with need.

I straddled him, lowering myself onto his cock with a long, trembling moan as he stretched me open all over again.

My belly sat full and round between us, resting against his abs as I sank down onto him, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside me.

So deep. So thick. So fucking perfect.

I started to move—rolling my hips, grinding against him, using every part of my body to milk his cock. His hands gripped my ass, guiding my rhythm, letting me ride him just how I needed.

I looked down, watching my belly bounce with every thrust, every grind, every time I dropped onto him and let his cock fill me completely.

Mike’s head fell back against the couch, eyes dark with lust as he watched me work his cock like it was mine—moaning, sweating, using him with the same hunger he’d shown me.

I bounced harder, faster, my thighs burning, the pressure inside me building again.

He grunted beneath me, his grip tightening, his hips starting to thrust up to mine.

And then I felt it—his whole body tensing, his cock twitching, his breathing ragged.

He grabbed my hips, held me down deep, and I felt it—hot cum spilling deep inside me.

I moaned, gripping his back, my body twitching around him as he emptied every last drop into my stretched pussy.

And when he pulled out, I lay there shaking. Used. Filled. Satisfied.

Then I turned my head to hubby.

“You know what to do.”

He dropped to his knees and crawled between my legs, licking up Mike’s cum from inside me, cleaning me slowly, reverently, like a good little cuck.

After he had finished, Mike pulled me back into the living room for round two.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood in front of the couch, waved his cock around, and looked down at me.

I dropped to my knees.

He was already hard again—thick, glistening with my arousal and his cum, the scent of sex still fresh on his skin.

I opened my mouth and slid him between my lips, tasting it all—his cum, my pussy, the filth of what we’d already done.

I moaned as I sucked him, using my tongue to clean every inch, to get him ready for the next round.

Hubby stood off to the side, hard, flushed, trying not to stroke himself. He wasn’t caged this time, but he was still restrained—mentally, emotionally, and physically.

He grabbed my chin, pulled me up, spun me around, and shoved me onto the couch, face down, ass up.

He didn’t wait.

He lined himself up and slammed into me from behind, burying himself in one deep, brutal thrust.

I gasped—loud and sudden—as the pressure filled me all over again.

The sound of his skin slapping against mine filled the room, my belly swaying beneath me with every hard stroke.

Then Mike spoke.

“Get in front of her.”

Hubby moved closer. His cock throbbing, leaking.

Mike tangled his fingers in my hair, dragging my mouth toward hubby’s cock.

For a moment, I was between them again—spitroasted.

Mike fucking my soaked, stretched pussy.

Hubby sliding into my mouth.

But it didn’t last long.

Hubby’s breathing grew too fast, his body twitching. He was about to cum.

“No,” I whispered, pulling back from his cock.

He whimpered and sat back, watching, panting, while Mike kept going.

He gripped my hips and pulled me back onto his cock, every thrust hitting deep, perfectly angled, perfectly rough.

Then he flipped me.

I found myself on my back, legs still trembling, as he climbed on top of me and pinned my knees to my chest, pushing my belly up with the pressure.

And then—he pile-drove into me.

His cock slammed deep, over and over, rattling the couch, my moans turning to gasps, my hands clawing at the cushions.

My belly bounced with every thrust, my breath caught between moans and cries.

I looked down at my own body—round, full, dripping wet, completely his.

And then I climbed on top of him.

He sat back on the couch, spreading his legs, and I straddled him, lowering myself onto his cock, taking him all the way in with a shudder.

I started riding.

Cowgirl. Belly on display.

I bounced on his cock, my hands pressing against his chest for balance, my belly in full view, every inch of me open and on show.

I could feel hubby’s eyes on me—watching his pregnant wife ride a man so much bigger, so much better then him.

Mike grunted beneath me, gripping my hips, helping me grind down harder, faster.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed me again, flipped me over, and bent me back over the couch.

One more time.

He thrust into me from behind, pounding me into the cushions, his balls slapping my soaked, messy pussy.

This was it.

This was where I lost it.

I started making noises I’d never made before—loud, raw, primal. Animalistic.

I wasn’t just moaning—I was howling.

And when he came again—his cock buried deep, his cum flooding me for the second time in one hour—I couldn’t believe it.

My body shook. My thighs trembled. My hands clawed the couch as he held himself inside me, filling me all over again.

I collapsed forward, breathless, my belly resting against the cushion, my entire body used and owned.

We took a break after that—well, I had to. My legs were shaking, my pussy was leaking, and I could barely speak.

We sat on the same couch he’d just pile-drove me into. The cushions still held my warmth. I was naked, stretched, dripping.

Mike sat beside me, relaxed, cock already thickening again. We talked.

It was strange. Casual conversation with the man who had just turned me inside out in front of my husband.

Hubby sat across from us, still hard, still denied.

Mike looked at my belly and reached out. “Mind if I rub it a little?”

I nodded.

His big hands slid over the curve of my belly, rubbing gently, slowly, almost lovingly. It was tender and filthy all at once. The same hands that had wrecked me now worshiping the part of me that made me feel even more irresistible. He moved me so I was sitting between his legs and for the best part of ten minutes he massaged my belly and my tits. So sensually- a complete opposite to watch just occurred.

“Come outside,” he said.

I followed him to the balcony. The air was cool on my skin, but I was on fire.

He leaned back against the rail before sitting down on the chair.

I once again got down on my knees and took him in my mouth again, slow and deep, sucking him while the world moved quietly around us.

He moaned, stroking my hair. I spent the next ten or so minutes sucking his cock. Then he pulled me up, bent me over the rail, and slid back into me.

I gasped as he fucked me outside—deep, slow, dominant strokes. But I could tell he was holding back. Probably because he didn’t want me making the same noises out her eon the balcony that I had just made inside.

Then he took my hand, brought me back inside, and laid me on the bed one last time.

Missionary. Deep. Close. Real.

I wrapped my legs around him, held onto him as he fucked me slowly. His eyes stayed on mine. My body responded like it was made for this.

And when he came again—his third load inside me—I arched my back and moaned like I belonged to him.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us wrecked, sweaty, and satisfied.

I lay there for a while after he pulled out, his cum leaking slowly from between my legs, pooling beneath me.

Eventually, I stood and walked back to the couch, my body aching in the best way possible.

I sank into the cushions, completely spent.

Then I heard my husband’s voice, soft and cautious.

“Can I… cum now?”

I blinked. Honestly, I’d forgotten he was even there.

I leaned back, spread my legs lazily, and said, “Just stroke yourself and cum on me.”

He did.

He stood there in front of me, his cock twitching, and within seconds he came—thick ropes splattering across my thighs, my belly, the cum already leaking from inside me.

I moaned softly and rubbed it in, absolutely spent.

Lately, I’ve been so fucking horny.

More then usual. More then ever.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it’s the thrill of being desired like this. Maybe it’s just knowing that other men want to own me—even like this.

Mike was just the first.

And I’ve got a long list of pregnancy fucks ahead of me.

I plan to enjoy every single one.