BBC Birthday Surprise

******Short and hot, stories in this series are meant for those of you ready to get off in under 3500 words.

My petite, white wife wants a big, black cock. She wants that big, black cock sliding into her wet, pink slit until she's overflowing with thick, bubbly spunk. Brittany wouldn't say that out loud, of course, but I can tell, knowing her for six years, married for four. First of all she's politically progressive; she's got that bleeding-heart-liberal BLM attitude about social justice. Secondly, I can see her looking at black guys with a little hungry appreciation. She's not aware that it shows, but she lights up a little when a big, black guy and his big, black cock are nearby.

I'm not in any way insecure about it. After all, I won her fair and square in life's mating game. We'd both played the field. Britt developed a taste for relationship therapy in pursuit of her sports medicine degree and we've been keeping our relationship tuned with regular therapy sessions for years. Our life plan is about larger things than our sex life. I'm big, too. Big and anglo, familiar and safe. Even though we're adventurous in bed there's only so much two people can do between the sheets. I decided that for her twenty-eighth birthday I ought to get her something really special. Like Jerome.

Jerome's a bartender at The Shotglass where we drop in for a Friday unwinding pretty often. He's working his way through culinary school and I've seen my wife melt when we chat over the Hennesy and Cokes he brings us. Clearly he's big at six-foot-four, two inches on me, more than a foot taller than Britt, and his package shows well in the tight jeans he wears. Britt notices.

Britt's blond ponytail, her athletic energy and her bubbly extroversion have got Jerome's attention, too, I can tell. She likes to jiggle, to tease. It's been a little thrill of mine to watch them spark each other and imagine what I wanted to make real for her.

Last Friday night at home in our bed, lying back with my boner getting polished by her practiced mouth, I said, "Britt, I'm thinking this talent's wasted on one man." She smiled around me and hummed appreciatively. My balls danced. We're in the habit of talking out our fantasies while we fuck and I know she likes to imagine getting railed by two guys. "What if you had a big cock in you right now, while you blow me? A big, black cock." She quivered, my dick pulsed, she pulled back and stood, straddling my pole.

"You'd like to watch, wouldn't you, Johnny?" she said, easing down on me, sinking me deep, her freckled, cantaloupe tits bouncing, blue eyes on mine, smiling.

"What about Jerome? He's hung like me." I rocked the organ in question up into her, pulling down on her hips. Her legs shook.

And that's all it took for her eyes to roll up in her head, her body to begin quaking and cries of abandon to fill the room. She likes the surrender of orgasm. She likes me to take control and jam her down onto my cock while she flops and screams. My head filled with images of her spit-roasted by us two bulls and her exploding as we pumped her full from both ends. In my hands she's so small it's like masturbating sometimes. I gripped her body at the waist and pounded her onto my big, white cock while she writhed and burbled nonsense until she collapsed on my chest and my spunk dribbled out of her and over my balls.

I think she liked the idea of Jerome. Lying there under her limp body, I knew she'd never take the initiative to make it happen, so I hatched a plan.

******

I stopped by The Shotglass by myself on Tuesday to scope him out.

"You understand," I whispered over the bar as we chatted between his service of other early drinkers, "this is a one-time thing I'm talking about." Jerome nodded soberly. I assured him, "No worries about jealousy from me. I want to see my wife happy."

"Oh, I'd like to see your wife happy that way, too," he grinned widely.

We could consider this a trial run, though I didn't say so then. If Britt and I both liked the experience, maybe we'd do it again. I explained my plan for the surprise and exchanged phone numbers with the hunky bartender. My plan was hatched.

*******

For a couple of weeks before the Saturday of Brittany's birthday party I was busy planning a 'normal' celebration with our friends to barbecue and exchange gifts at the social hall in our apartment complex. I even had it catered so there wouldn't be any cleanup afterward. Britt didn't have a clue about my surprise. At the party we all got a little lit, of course.

It had been fun to watch her enjoying the afternoon with our friends. There were a lot of laughs, a lot of appreciation of her presence in our lives. Like she often does, she teased me the whole time. First, she'd worn the sea-green silk blouse that clings so well to her breasts and that thin, blue lacy bra that framed a tantalizing cleavage and let her flesh jiggle just right. She made sure the lace peaked out from the half unbuttoned blouse. She excited her own self when she wore her short, flippy black pleated skirt and thigh-highs. Britt liked to twirl and show off her skin, give a tease of her ass, make folks wonder if she was even wearing panties.

She knew it made me crazy. And she loved being the center of attention.

Afterward, Britt and I crossed the parking lot to our apartment. The evening light purpled the sky over the mountains and swallows darted overhead, snatching bugs midair as the street lights flickered on. We held hands and she leaned into me.

"I'm floating..." Britt murmured, "Who are you texting now, Johnny?"

"Oh, I've got one more little birthday gift for you, Buttercup," teasing her with a name she didn't like as much as I did. To me, with her blond hair, blue eyes and freckles, she looked like that actress from The Princess Bride. As we climbed the stair and I pulled out my key I added, "there's one more present in the living room."

She walked in and gasped. On the floor in the center of the room stood a large wrapped box, about four feet square. "Open it, go on," I urged. Britt ran over and explored the edges of the box, found the lid, raised it.

I know some of you reading this may think I'm crazy to let my petite, white wife get screwed by a big, black cock. But what I said earlier about therapy and how our life plan is bigger than our sex life is important. We knew each other's most intimate fears as well as desires and we'd built a trust that allowed us to live with our insecurities while still 'seizing the day'.

You might reasonably believe that a part of me was afraid that Britt would suddenly need a big, black cock more than my big, white one, or that I'd be afraid of her leaving me because somehow Jerome would be a more appealing partner, sexually and otherwise. Well, of course those thoughts went through my head, but I knew enough to just watch them go by. I knew enough to encourage her to get a taste of big, black cock now and then so it couldn't become an obsession because it was forbidden.

So I was confident when Britt pulled up the lid on that nicely wrapped package and screamed, startled. She stumbled back from the smiling Jerome, hand on her mouth and into my strong arms. He'd slipped himself, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, into the box when I texted from the parking lot.

"Wait!, What??!!" she cried, "Jerome?! What's happening??"

"Surprise, Buttercup! I got you that big, black cock you've been dreaming of." I squeezed her and nibbled her ear to assure her it was true.

"But, but..." and she turned and threw her arms around me, delighted now, gave me a wet kiss, "Oh. My. God!" She turned and looked at Jerome, now standing, grinning, looking eager.

"This can't be real," she whispered, reaching for him.

"Happy Birthday, Brittany" he said, smiling, stepping out of the box and enveloping her in his arms.

"God, he smells so good, Johnny," she sighed.

"Keep on unwrapping him," I gestured. And she pulled at his t-shirt, exposing his dark abs and the little curlies on his chest as the cloth slid upward. She couldn't reach high enough so he pulled the t-shirt over his head and stood as she ran her hands all over his torso, giggling.

I just stood and watched, feeling a little smug, glad my girl was happy. Jerome and I exchanged satisfied grins. The plan looked like a success.

My petite, white wife only came up to his nipples. His mahogany body towered like a tree over Britt, she as attentive as a squirrel. I thought of her scrambling over him and flicking her ponytail excitedly. She'd take a particular interest in his nuts. I laughed and stripped, delighted to see her pale and lean body against his dark, and muscled one.

Brittany ran her hands all over his chest and said, "I'm not objectifying you, understand, Jerome, but this is a nice body you've got here."

"Britt, we can discuss religion, politics and the current Fed policy later," he replied, watching her explore, "I'm OK with letting just our bodies get acquainted right now." I watched, naked, from arm's length, smelling the two of them getting aroused, feeling the heat of those bodies radiate. I reached around Britt and unfastened the buttons on her blouse, my knuckles brushing Jerome's hairy abs. My wife pulled at his belt and fumbled with the button of his jeans. She hummed happily as she stripped him.

"Oooooh, I love your big, black cock," she breathed when she got it out into the air. Britt only took her hands off of it long enough to let me pull off her blouse. Then she stood there in her cerulean blue lace-trimmed bra, flippy skirt and thigh-highs. The bra was gone in a moment and I tossed it aside, letting Jerome get an eyeful of the tits he'd been coveting all those Fridays at the bar. From behind her I got one in each hand and kneaded, showing him my wife's freckled melons proudly.

Britt sank to her knees out of my grip and pulled Jerome's jeans down with her. There it was in front of her face, the big, black cock she'd fantasized about, the swollen, dark, vein-circled, throbbing, straining, velvet-skinned, foreskin-hooded, mushroom-headed, dripping, fat organ of her dreams. Now she had a big, black one and a big, white one at each side of her. She looked from one to the other, one seeping pole in each hand, kneeling at our feet and grinning, her pink, stiffened breast flesh rising with her breath, raspberry nipples standing proud on the spongy areola.

Britt took him in her mouth first, tasting his ooze, stretching her lips thin and savoring his flavor. She stroked me and I enjoyed the show as she cast glances at us both. Then she gave me the honor of laying my cock on her tongue and pulling it into her hot mouth. On her knees, ponytail swinging, tits jiggling, she went from one thick knob to the other, wetting us with her spit, tasting our oily, metal ooze.

Britt looked adoringly up at Jerome with her lips stretched to their limit around his big, black cock, spittle dripping from her chin, running along her cleavage. He gazed down with a kind expression, touched her hair gently, and said, "This is your party, Britt. I'll do whatever you like. You let me know."

She pulled back, caught her breath, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and swallowed. "I've been dreaming of your big, black cock, it's true," she grinned. "But I've also been dreaming of your big, black lips on my pussy." Then she stood and turned to sprawl on the couch. She looked at Jerome, pulled up her skirt, spread her legs and pointed at her crotch. He dropped to his knees. She wasn't wearing panties. Her trimmed bush, golden and curly, invited our tongues to play.

"Sit beside me, Johnny," she said and took my wet pole in her hand. We both watched Jerome fulfill her desire. He cast her a playful look, smiled and leaned in to take a nipple in his teeth. Britt yelped and squeezed my cock hard. I dripped.

Jerome worked slowly and steadily across her flesh, nipping and licking her breasts, giving the nipples gentle attention, pulling her skirt down. Britt turned her head and kissed me long and deep while stroking my pole. I felt her reactions to Jerome's mouth, the sharp intake of breath, the shuddering sigh, the eager, hungry lips sliding on mine. When I looked down Jerome's face was deep in her delta and she'd clamped her thighs around his head. He had a hand on each breast, pinching her nipples and she rose and fell into his ministrations.

I took a breast in one hand, too, and used my tongue on her lips as I imagined Jerome was using his on her vulva, wetting them, teasing them apart, tasting her thick juices.

Britt went stiff and whimpered into my mouth. The release shook her body and she trembled, stiff and holding Jerome to her crotch with one hand, jerking my pole spastically with the other. Slowly the wave passed through her and she sagged down into the cushions, panting, covered in sweat. We all breathed hard.

Without a word she rose onto hands and knees and reached between her thighs for Jerome's big, black cock. He let her guide him, got his hands on her pale, tight, round ass and held still as she pressed herself back onto him, groaning, her thigh-highs sagging down her legs. Britts breasts swung heavily as her rhythm mounted, as she arched her back and impaled herself repeatedly on his pole. I sat back and watched the joy light her face. For a while she disappeared into that happy place where she was nothing but sensation, nothing more than nerve endings firing, firecrackers of delight popping through her body. It made me so happy to see her there and know I'd made it happen.

I stroked myself while I watched. I knew what it felt like to pull her cheeks apart and sink to the balls in her tight pussy. I knew the wet squelch of her desire open to my urgent thrusting, knew the rising passion of her little muscled body squirming on my spear. I knew when she flushed red and rose into another quivering orgasm, hit a plateau of pleasure and squealed out her delight. I was realizing how, contrary to what you might imagine, rather than creating a rivalry, fucking the same woman made for the start of a good friendship.

My hand was sticky with my juices when I palmed Britt's cheek and guided her mouth to my fat, purple cockhead. She opened with a dreamy smile and eagerly ran her tongue in the cleft of my corona, my bulb sliding between her lips, slippery and hot.

Jerome was moving slowly, dragging his pipe out and pressing firmly back into her, bumping her face onto my pole. Britt groaned around me and I held still, keeping pressure in my hips, leaning into the blowjob while she rose in joy to our spit-roasting. Her rhythmic noises of pleasure grew happier and happier as I watched Jerome's big, black cock split her cute, tight, round bottom. It's a favorite porn view of mine and cool to see it done to my wife without having to use a mirror.

Brittany liked it, obviously, being the piglet on the spit. "Fuck, this is good," she groaned, then brought her hands up to grab my thighs and pull me into her mouth, angling her head to get me deep. Her uncontrollable drooling soaked us and dripped from my balls. Britt froze for a moment on a shuddering intake of breath and tumbled into another cascade of release, shaking between us as one more orgasm wracked her body.

It was all I could do to not lose it myself. Looking at Jerome's twisted face it was clear he was close and holding back, too. He had her hips clamped tight to his deeply planted big, black cock while she squirmed out her pleasure. It seemed a long time before she pulled her mouth off of me and gasped a deep, shaky breath.

"Oh...My...God...Guys..." she panted, head hanging down. "I can't hold myself up anymore." Britt slid off of Jerome's slick pole and sank to her haunches. "I want one more present," she sighed with a wicked smile in her eye. "Come on my face," she grinned, "I want two loads from my two big guys."

"Woman..." said Jerome, clearly in awe, taking his dripping cock in hand, stroking.

"As you wish, Buttercup," I smiled, working her drool up and down my eager organ. I leaned in on her left, Jerome leaned in on her right and she knelt there on the living room carpet, pink and sweaty, her ponytail wet against her shoulder as we stroked. Britt put a small hand on each of our big, hairy ball sacks and caressed. She lay her head back like a pro cum-queen and opened her mouth, darting her blue eyes from one to the other of us, her brow furrowed in playful concentration.

"This was the best birthday, Johnny," she sighed, "put the icing on the cake, OK?"

"Shit, woman..." grunted Jerome and his body went stiff. He stretched to his tallest, on the balls of his feet, his hips pressed forward, teeth gritted, his hand a blur as he whipped that big, black cock over my petite, white wife's smiling face. Then there was a spurt of silver and time slowed as I watched the gob sail from his knob to splatter on Britt's cheek. As it oozed down another gob flew and fell on her teeth, dripping onto her tongue. Then another stream, thick and heavy, laid a track across the bridge of her freckled nose and pooled in her eye. Brittany, squealed and lapped at the splooge on her lips. She bounced in happiness.

Jerome's big, black cock burst again leaving a pool of shimmery cum on her forehead. The next went wide and I got a thick glob of friendly fire on my cock. I smeared it along my shaft, his goo making me slipperier. I lost it then, curled over Britt, put a hand on Jerome's shoulder and exploded straight into my wife's pink, hungry mouth. My knob, swollen and shiny, popped from my dripping fingers and flung gout after gout of heavy cream onto her face. It oozed in thick strings from her jaw, trailed across her boobs and hung from her nipples. A bubbly stream of our juices ran down across her belly and disappeared in her curly, golden bush.

Britt, with an eager urgency, took our knobs in turn into her mouth and sucked out the last of our spendings. Her soupy, hot mouth filled and she swallowed repeatedly until we were empty and hanging limp. Then she dragged her sticky fingers across her face to pull the glazing of spunk to her lips, savoring it, swallowing.

We spent bulls fell back and watched as my petite, white wife scraped our cum off of her body, pulling thick strings from her nipples to her lips, catching at the slippery, dripping ooze and smiling as she licked her gooey fingers, laughing.

Britt looked at me with love and said, "Now, how am I supposed to top this for your birthday in September?"

If you've made it to the end, may I ask for a comment, please? The benefit to you is that I'll be much more encouraged to write and to write more often. Your feedback makes my stories better.