It's All My Husband's Fault

It is my husband's fault. Well, not really. But if there ever comes a time when he decides to bring it up, that's what I'm going to say. After all, he knows exactly what is going on, and has known for some time. I know that because I saw him watching one day shortly after we were married. Years have passed and we are now the parents of four beautiful little girls, with a fifth on the way, and he hasn't ever said anything about what is going on.

What am I talking about? I am fucking my father. I have been ever since I was eighteen and I seduced him. I married my childhood sweetheart shortly following our graduation. Despite all the fucking me and my dad were doing, I wasn't pregnant at the time. But as I have always been a practical woman and wasn't using birth control with my father, even though Derrick was using condoms, I expected I soon would be. I knew that Derrick would be the right guy to marry because, even though the tall, slender, gorgeous, dark complexioned black stallion of a man was desired by a lot of our high school classmates, he was completely in love with me. Then I saw him watching us one day when he came home early one day because one his professors was out sick, and I knew I had made the right choice.

Yes, he was and is totally in love with me, and will do whatever I ask. And, yes, I take complete advantage of it. That's the kind of black bitch I am. I am an adulterous, incestuous, white bred black hot wife. Deal with it.

Let me explain. I am not just black. I am biracial. My father is white and my mother is black. They are married, but not to each other. My father's wife doesn't know about me being his daughter, but my mother's husband has always known that he is not my father. He had to know because he is sterile and has dark chocolate skin like my mother, while I have a soft bronze skin tone, mousy brown hair with auburn highlights, and green eyes the color of a dense forest under heavy cloud cover.

I met Derrick in kindergarten and we grew up together. From the beginning our parents thought we made a cute couple. Actually, everybody did. We fell in love with each other early, and always referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. Of course, as the years passed and I grew into a slender, beautiful teen with long, slim legs, small hips, a cute, round butt, and pert tits with coppery red nipples who became a part of the school cheer squad, while Derrick seemed to become something of a computer geek. Of course, being an attractive girl I was hit on by a lot of guys. And I was tempted to accept some of the guy's offers to take me out, especially the white guys, but every time I did the guy would later change his mind. I didn't know why until a big, muscular football jock who's name I don't remember, that everybody was scared of, hit on me in front of Derrick, acting as if Derrick wasn't shit and didn't matter. Derrick proved that the what the other boy thought was wrong by standing toe to toe with him and beating him to the ground. After that, nobody hit on me again, which, on one hand, as a hot young woman, I hated. But on the other hand I felt a stronger admiration for Derrick and no longer thought of him as just a nerd. Instead, I recognized that he was not only smart enough to be able to land the type of job that would be able to support us if we stayed together and he was strong enough that I knew I would be safe with him.

Like I said, we fell in love with each other early. But while in high school, I discovered that even though I knew I loved Derrick, I had an attraction to blond haired, blue eyed white guys. When my classmates would talk about their sexual adventures, I would imagine myself in their place and it was always a white guy, not Derrick, that I saw myself with. Then came the day just following my eighteenth birthday, when my father came to take me out for an evening. We went to four star restaurant for dinner, and as I sat across from him, admiring his silken blond hair, handsome face with sparkling, happy blue eyes, and the perfect slender elegance of his physique, I began to imagine him kissing me. I envisioned his nude body on top of mine, our soft, moist lips pressed together as he drove his huge, white cock in and out of my virgin, mulatto cunt. That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn't just white guys I was attracted to. It was white guys who looked like my father that were drawing my attention and making my panties wet. Gazing at my father, I realized that what I wanted was to fuck my dad.

Of course, the revelation surprised me and I tried to reject it. My first thought was that it couldn't possibly be true. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that it was. Then I tried to reproach myself by the recognition that I was fantasizing about doing an incestuous act with my own father, but that only made me hotter for him, the idea of doing something so taboo igniting flames in my pussy that had never been there for anyone else.

I seduced my father for the very first time that night. And it wasn't hard. We were both very clear headed and knew exactly what we were doing. I made the first move right there in the restaurant. Nobody there knew he was my father, and at that moment I'm not sure I would have cared if they did. Rising from my chair, I walked around to my father's side of the table. He watched me move toward him with eyes filled with curiosity, as if wondering what was on my mind. But when I bent down to kiss him, pressing my lips to his while slipping my tongue into his mouth, he didn't act at all repulsed. Instead, he reached up to run his fingers through my hair as he kissed me back. And his equal passion and lack of concern for the people around us made my cunt burn even hotter for him.

We ended our dinner early and my dad got a suite for us in a major hotel. He actually told the woman behind the desk that he wanted a suite with one bedroom for him and his daughter. And I'm sure she understood exactly what he was saying, because she turned a little red upon hearing him say it. But because she didn't act repulsed, I briefly wondered if she knew of other family members who had rented hotel rooms together or if she herself was enjoying an incestuous relationship. But I didn't concern myself with that for long. My dad got the key card and we kissed right there in front of the girl before walking hand in hand to where a bank of elevators was located.

When we reached the room and stepped inside the door, the moment became more intense than anything displayed in any pornographic movie. My heart pounded wildly as he roughly pushed me back against the closest wall, my head banging lightly against its surface, and kissed me hungrily as his hands reached up between us to grip the front of my scarlet evening dress and tear it from my neckline to my navel, baring the front of my body. Though I was wearing red string bikini panties, I wasn't wearing the matching bra so he was able to fill his palms with the small, firm mounds of my breasts and squeeze them as my sensitive, tingling nipples strained against the rough skin at the center of his hand.

He pulled away to gaze into my eyes.

"Are you sure you want this, baby girl?" He asked, panting heatedly.

"Yes. Oh yes," I replied in a voice that was equally breathless. I pushed my pelvis forward and rubbed it against the throbbing hardness within his pants.

"Ummm. That's my girl. You are definitely a combination of me and your mother. You have our shared desire for interracial sex as well as our complete lack of inhibition," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle the side of my neck. I felt his tongue flutter across the flesh there and my pussy gushed hotly, sending a splash of boiling wetness into the crotch of my already sodden panties. "Wait until she finds out her daughter takes after her. I'll bet your mother will be beside herself with joy."

My father was talking about telling my mother he fucked me I didn't even blink. At any other time I might have been appalled and embarrassed. But he said it with such a confidence that he believed she would understand our actions that all his words did was raise the level of my arousal. First I imagined being there when he told her. Then I imagined her watching as he fucked me and I knew I wanted that to happen too.

And he was right about my hunger for interracial sex. I wanted to feel white hands moving over me, strong white arms gripping me tightly, and a white dick fucking me. I knew that my mother was an insatiable whore for white cock. I was aware of several white lovers she had, having seen her with some of them, and because I had three brothers and a sister who were all fathered by white men. But I wasn't aware of anyone in my family that my mother was having sex with. So, unlike my mother, I not only had a desire for white flesh, I also had a hunger for family flesh.

My dad kissed me again, sending a loving warmth flowing through my heart and a powerful sexual sensation reverberating along the walls of my pussy and womb that was stronger than I had experienced during any of my masturbationary episodes. I kept thinking of the fact that the white man kissing me was my father and my cunt bubbled and boiled heatedly at the thought.

He popped my cherry that night. My father's big, nine inched, white cock sunk into my tight, wet, horny, black cunt like a hot knife into butter. There was a little pain as it stretched the walls of my pussy wide and tore through my hymen, but after the initial entry there was only ecstasy. And it was an ecstasy that exceeded the boundaries of anything I had ever envisioned.

From the first, I couldn't get enough of my daddy's hard, white prick. We spent the night together and he fucked me six times, with two of those times with me on top doing the fucking by riding whorishly up and down on his steel hard shaft. But the best time was when I returned to the bed from the bathroom and he threw me face down on the mattress, gripping and pulling my long, brown hair as he held me there while fucking me hard and deep from behind. I discovered that I had a real love of being dominated and for rough sex when he took me that way, cumming again and again as he fiercely slammed his big dick in and out of me. Following that night we began to fuck each other regularly.

My dad and I got together with my mother and informed her of our new relationship. Like my father had expected, she was not at all upset by the revelation. She didn't even seem surprised. During that conversation with my mother, I was asked if I wanted to have my father's babies. I hadn't really thought about that. I mean, I knew that our fucking could result in pregnancy, but the issue wasn't my most prevalent concern at the time. The thing I thought about most when it came to the issue of my fucking my father was the question of how soon I would be able to get his big dick back in me again. When my mother presented the question to me, I told her I hadn't thought about it. To that she replied that I should definitely think about it because my father was a virile man with potent seed and with the way we were going at each other there was a chance that I might be pregnant soon if I didn't take precautions. She said that she wasn't saying that I shouldn't have children by my dad, or by any man I wanted to. She stated that she, herself, was a total slut. And that she was most especially a white cock slut. She personally didn't believe that a black woman should ever use birth control when fucking white men, which was why, even though she occasionally fucked black guys, all of her children were fathered by white men. She informed me that she always made her black lovers wear condoms when they fucked but never used anything to stop her white lovers from impregnating her. She said that, before things went beyond my expectations, I should consider what I want to do with regard to birth control.

I graduated from high school and married Derrick shortly after. Marrying Derrick was my dad's idea. I loved Derrick, and still do, but I was "in love" with my father, and still am. My dad reminded me that,, because of the position of society with regard to incest, we couldn't be together openly and suggested that, because he knew Derrick was in love with me, I should marry him to thwart suspicion of our involvement with one another. I agreed with that idea, but not only because I was worried about what other people might think. I also married Derrick because of his financial prospects and because, after talking to my mother, who reminded me that I was fucking my father and not using any form of protection, I realized that I would need to be with a man who could provide for any children I might have, and who loved me enough that he might be able to accept my sexual desires if he learned of them.

The wedding was a medium sized affair, with family and friends attending. My dad hired a photographer, so there are many pictures of the ceremony and the celebration at the reception. It was a beautiful moment, as lovely as any girl could ever wish for. But what I enjoyed most about it was the things that are not in the photo album. What I enjoyed was having awakened the morning of the wedding with my father's strong arms wrapped around my nude body following a night of repeated fucking. What I remember is that he fucked me again before he would let me get out of the bed. What I remember is that he fucked me in the dressing room of the church while I wore my wedding dress right before walking me down the aisle. What I remember is hearing him whisper in my ear as he came inside me that he hoped he was making me pregnant and how I came harder than ever before when hearing those word, wrapping my legs tightly around his hips and trying to draw him deeper into me as I tilted my pussy up to him while murmuring that I hoped so too. I have the most vivid memory of how my cunt was tingling as thick globs of my daddy's spunk dripped into the crotch of my panties when I said: "I do." I recall how we snuck away to fuck two more times during the festivities before Derrick and I left to enjoy our wedding night. And I remember that, as usual (Derrick and I had begun to have sex a few months before the wedding), I made Derrick use a condom that night and that he had sloppy seconds as I didn't clean my father's cum from my cunt before fucking him.

Derrick and I went to the University of Pittsburgh together, both comfortable with remaining in our home town to continue our education, and got an off-campus apartment. It was while we were in college that Derrick caught me with my dad. When I saw him, I was lying on my back beneath my father, his huge, white prick slamming forcefully into my hot, wet pussy as I undulated sluttishly and begged him to fuck me harder and deeper. Derrick stood in the doorway of our bedroom for a long time, staring at the sight of his wife being fucked by a white man. Staring at the sight of his wife being fucked by her father. And there was something about seeing him standing there that caused the flames in my snatch to flare up and become a raging inferno, making me cum again and again and again. He stayed long enough to see my father climax, to watch as my father slammed his big, bare cock to the hilt inside me and hold it there as he flooded my cunt and womb with a heavy load of his seed. Then, before my father noticed his presence, he turned and left.

When he left, I thought our marriage might be over and he was never coming back. But I was wrong. He came back later that evening. And he didn't blow up in anger or jealous rage. Instead, he acted as if nothing had changed and he was as oblivious to what was going on as he had been before walking in on us.

Since then, he has come home several times to find me in our marital bed with a white man, but he has never said anything about it. He hasn't complained about my intimate closeness with my father. He didn't enter any protest when I began to fuck other white men, including our neighbor and his boss. He has never complained about my never allowing him to fuck me barebacked, though he knows I also never use condoms with my white lovers. He hasn't hesitated to claim any of our children, even though they each look like their fathers (my dad, our neighbor, and his boss). And, on the kinky side, he has never been anything less than enthusiastic about eating my cunt, even when he has seen another man fuck his cum into me just moments earlier and was aware that I hadn't had time to shower or douche.

I take his silence as tacit consent. No, not only consent. I take it as encouragement. I take it as if his silence is his way of saying that he loves me enough to allow me to experience whatever pleasures I may desire and that he actually wants me to fuck white guys. I take it as his way of showing that he loves me for me, and I love him for that.

So, while I am constantly screwing white men and letting them breed me, it is my husband's fault. And the truth is, I'm pretty sure that if he was ever to be asked about it, and decided to respond, he would probably agree.