My Black Babies Ch. 01

In this chapter, the first in another story, Victoria Madison, learns that her infertile husband, Reed, has hired a married black man, Joseph Vanderbilt, to breed her. She undergoes a couple other experiences while spending a week with Joe, that cause her to open her sexual horizons. This chapter contains oral, interracial and vaginal sex, public sex, exhibitionism, spit-roasting, and elements of cuckolding. My thanks to JohnnyGalt for his editorial assistance.

It shouldn't be necessary to say this, but I found one of my Literotica books for sale on Amazon, in an anthology, with the help of another reader. My works are copyrighted, and should not be stolen by anyone else. Write your own damn shit. ©️ 2023

My Black Babies, Ch 1

My Husband Hires a Black Breeder

"Push, honey," Reed said. "I can see the head. He's almost here."

Reed Madison, was my husband, five feet, eleven inches tall, three inches taller than me if I didn't wear heels, 170 thin, patrician pounds, brown hair, hazel eyes, trim little mustache, but otherwise clean shaven, a hospital gown over his business suit, (at work when my water broke), with a mask and an excited gleam in his eye as I was about to deliver our first child. I say ours, because Reed and I would raise it. But he was not the man who planted that baby in my tummy. That was another man, Joseph, but I'm getting ahead of myself a little.

I pushed, panting, my body covered in sweat, my pussy feeling as if I were trying to force a bowling ball out of it. I screamed, my pussy feeling as if it was tearing.

"His head is out," Reed said. "Almost there, baby."

I could see the eyes of the nurse and doctor over their own masks, and I saw the looks of shock in their eyes, the quick glances at each other, and then my husband. If they expected my husband to react negatively to what he saw, they were disappointed. Reed was nothing but ecstatic when they laid my black son on my tummy. After all, it was his plan that resulted in the birth of our son. His, and no one else's, although I planned to have more control over the next couple of children I had. My name is Victoria, Vicky to my friends, and let's go back to the beginning.

******

Reed and I had been married for three years before we tried having children. He was starting his career as an accountant, me as a legal assistant in a law office. Once we'd each gotten established, we took the condoms off, so's to speak. So far, in the two years we'd been trying, nothing had happened, except being more established than we were. It was our fifth wedding anniversary tomorrow, which happened to coincide with my next ovulation, so we'd taken a week off, or so I thought, getting a fabulous hotel room in New York at The Pierre, where we planned to fuck like minks, to get the job done once and for all.

I was waiting for him at the Two E, the lobby bar, which had live jazz, before going to our dinner reservations at the Perrine, the hotel's fine French restaurant. I was attired in the proverbial little black dress, with three inch heels so I wouldn't be taller than Reed was. It may be boastful to say so, but I looked fabulous. Several unattached men had approached me while I waited for my husband, all of them practically drooling from lust. Reed seemed to be running fifteen minutes late.

"Mrs. Victoria Madison," a soft, deep, melodious voice said.

I looked up and saw a tall, handsome, elegant, well put together, black man standing beside my chair.

"I won't be ordering," I said. "As soon as my husband gets here, we'll be going to supper."

He smiled at me. "I'm not a waiter, and your husband won't be coming. May I sit down for a moment?"

I blushed, thinking that I'd assumed he was a waiter, despite not wearing the usual Pierre livery. I nodded and he sat.

He pushed an envelope across the table, addressed to me, and in Reed's handwriting.

"It's a letter from your husband, explaining my presence, and his absence."

I raised my eyebrows, somewhat curious about why Reed couldn't just call me. It's not like we didn't have cell phones on all the time. I opened the envelope and pulled out a two page letter.

My dearest Vicky, I'm writing this letter as an introduction to Joseph Vanderbilt, with an explanation for why he's with you tonight, and I am not. I went to the doctor two months ago, and discovered that the reason we haven't had a child in two years of trying, is I'm infertile. I can't give you the children we've both wanted. I was devastated, and I knew you'd be heartbroken as well, as we've often discussed our desire to have three children and even picked out names for them if they were boys or girls.

I knew that if you wanted a child, as I do, that another man would have to provide his seed for your conception. I set about finding the perfect man to be the father of our children, and I believe I've succeeded. I introduce you to Joseph Vanderbilt, who has successfully fathered sixteen other children, all of whom are healthy, happy children. He is clean, intelligent, handsome, as you can see, and happily married, so he won't interfere in our lives after he's fathered our child.

Knowing you as I do, I knew you would be reluctant to take this step, allowing another man to father our children. I've exhaustively researched Joseph and I consider him to be the perfect candidate. If you agree, he will be taking my place on our vacation. Please do this for me. At the very least, give him the evening to charm you as he charmed me. Let him take you to dinner, and out dancing. If at the end of the evening, you don't want to continue, Joseph will leave and you need never see him again.

If you agree with me that he is the perfect candidate to father our first child, I hope that you will thoroughly enjoy the next week with him and return home to me, carrying what I sincerely hope, will be the first of three, happy, healthy children.

Yours forever,

Reed

I looked at Joseph. "You're black," I said.

"I'm well aware of the color of my skin, believe me," Joseph said, with a smile, showing he took no offense.

"Why would my husband pick a man to father our children who's black? If you give me a child, he won't look anything like my husband. Everyone will know that I, pardon my French, fucked a black man."

"I have my suspicions, but I think that's for him to tell you, and not me."

"I personally think it's crazy. I don't think I can do this."

"That's entirely up to you. I won't force myself on you."

Joseph was calm, self assured, incredibly handsome, the epitome of manly perfection. He still had a smile on his face, not at all smarmy or smirking.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, curious.

"For money. Your husband is paying me a substantial amount of money for a weeks worth of pleasure for me. I've already received half, which is mine to keep regardless of the outcome; your agreement, or whether or not you become pregnant. I'll receive the balance of the sum if you become pregnant, which I anticipate will happen if you allow this to continue."

"Have you ever failed?"

"If the woman didn't stop birth control soon enough, it's taken two trips to the well, but Reed indicated you haven't been on birth control for two years. I don't anticipate a problem, unless you yourself are infertile, and not just Reed."

"Do you really have sixteen children?"

"Only two of my own, the other fourteen are being raised by other couples."

"Are any of the other wives white?"

"Twelve of them. One is Chinese. One of the women was black, although she has a white husband."

"Are any of them repeats?"

"No."

"Were the husbands or wives dissatisfied with your services?"

"I don't believe any of the wives were. I can't be certain about the husbands."

"Why no repeats then?"

"That's an agreement with my wife. One child only per couple. She doesn't want me to become too emotionally attached to anyone else."

"So, you're really married?"

"Seven years and two kids worth, yes."

"And your wife doesn't care about you knocking up fourteen other women?"

"Saying she doesn't care, might be stretching it a bit. It's why we have rules, but she doesn't automatically equate sex with love."

"And she knows that you're out with me tonight?"

"Yes. Would you like to speak to her?"

"I would if I decide to proceed. I don't think it's necessary if I don't, considering it would only be for a dinner and dance."

I looked at him again. I was physically attracted to him, which surprised me a little, not so much by the fact he was black. I'd experienced attraction to other black men. More so because he was so unlike my husband. Taller, more physically fit and imposing, he filled out the suit he was wearing to perfection.

I stood up and extended my hand. "Regardless of anything else I decide, I'm famished. Shall we go to supper then?"

"We shall," he replied, standing, a nice smile still gracing his lips.

******

Reed was right. Joseph was extremely intelligent, and either a college graduate, or well read. He could converse on a number of different subjects without problem, including economics, social issues, recent events, politics. I didn't always agree with him, but he always made his case in an intelligent and well thought out manner.

Joseph was always solicitous, polite, and asked numerous questions about me and my marriage. He had a few occasions where he could have denigrated, or made fun of my husband, but he never did; not even questioning why my husband might want someone else having sex with his wife. Not that I knew myself at the time, although I've come to learn a lot more about my husband since then.

By the time we'd finished supper, I'd found no reason why I wouldn't want to go dancing with him, so when he paid the bill, (expenses such as meals were included in his fee), I agreed to join him for an evening of dancing.

"Where are we going?" I asked, thinking it would be someplace like a disco or dance club.

"The Metropolitan Club, a private club, is right next door. They're holding a ball tonight as a fundraiser to benefit the American Heart Association."

"Are we dressed appropriately?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. You can't use your cell phone in the club, so you'll either need to turn it off, or leave it here."

"I'll turn it off."

"As you wish." Joseph turned off his own phone at the same time, sliding it back into his suit pocket.

He took my arm and escorted me next door. He wasn't lying about that, although the entrance was on 60th Street, not on Fifth. Joseph had invitations to the ball, and presented them at the door.

"Welcome back, Mr. Vanderbilt," the man checking for invitations said.

"Thank you, Clive."

I have to admit, The Metropolitan Club was impressive. Formed in 1891 by 25 of the richest and most influential men in New York at the time, including JP Morgan, it's first president, it was a model of Italian Renaissance design, with painted ceilings in the major ball rooms, an impressive grand staircase, and numerous chandeliers littered the place. It was a hint of the gilded age from times long past.

"There aren't many black folks here," I whispered. "I'm surprised they let you in."

"They probably wished I wasn't here either," Joseph whispered back, "but I'm a black sheep relative of one of the founding fathers, William Kissam Vanderbilt, grandson of Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt. His first wife, Alva, divorced him on the grounds of adultery. My great, great, great grandmother was a beneficiary of some of his favors, a son, to which he granted the Vanderbilt name and little else. I'm not sure I blamed him for his adultery, as Alva looked like quite the battleaxe in pictures I've seen of her.

"Good old Willie inherited a lot of money and he purchased the P.T. Barnum Great Roman Hippodrome, and renamed it Madison Square Garden. He also raised and bred thoroughbred horses, and was a founding member of The Jockey Club, and shareholder and president of the Sheepshead Bay Race Track, and the Jekyll Island Club, aka, the Millionaires Club on Jekyll Island, Georgia. His son, my namesake, worked at his stables, before he went to France after his divorce.

"The Metropolitan Club was built on land purchased from the Duchess of Marlborough, and he later coerced his daughter, Consuelo, named after one of his paramours, the best friend of his wife, Alva, to marry a destitute Charles Spencer-Churchill, the Ninth Earl of Marlborough, who was cousin to Winston Churchill, so I guess I'm related by marriage to the Churchills in England. It was quite the scandal. Apparently, Alva wanted to see Consuelo marry a duke, and Charles needed money, so Consuelo was apparently locked in a room until she consented to marry Charles for which Charles received $2,500,000 from Willie, so he could refurbish Blenheim Palace, his family home, which had fallen into disrepair. Many more adulteries occurred on both sides before those two were eventually divorced."

"That is quite the scandal," I whispered.

"Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, sometimes reads like a porno novel," Joseph replied, smiling.

He led me to the ballroom and we began dancing. Since there was perhaps some expectation on his part that we would be having sex at some point, I expected Joseph to dance a little more provocatively with me than he did. Perhaps running his hands over my ass, or maybe brushing my breasts more, but he did none of those things. That's not to say that I couldn't feel his cock when we were dancing close. Apparently, Joseph was rather substantially endowed. Even without being erect, it seemed he had quite the trouser snake, but he was a complete gentleman, although the setting might have something to do with that. We were dancing with the upper crust of New York society, after all.

Joseph was an excellent dancer, knowing many dances that I did not, and I wondered if he'd taken lessons at some point. He not only knew the steps, but could lead well, so even without me knowing the moves, I found myself gliding around the floor with some semblance of grace. If I just surrendered to his guidance, we looked good. We danced until eleven, when he led me back to The Pierre.

"May I accompany you to your room," Joseph said when we reached the lobby.

"I haven't quite decided what I'm going to do yet," I said. "Perhaps a drink in the 2E again while I text my husband?"

"Whatever you wish," Joseph replied smoothly.

We had a seat and a waitress took our order. I had a Cosmopolitan while Joseph had a bourbon on the rocks. I turned on my phone again. I found several messages from Reed which had come in while my phone was off.

Do you like Joseph?

Will you have a child with him?

Is he as attractive to you as his pictures?

Where are you? Are you already making love?

Please let me know what's going on.

I responded to him with a lengthy text.

I like Joseph, and I don't know yet about the child. He is very attractive. We had dinner and then went dancing at a ball next door at The Metropolitan Club. We couldn't use our phones, so they were turned off while we were there. We're having a drink in the 2E bar at The Pierre at the moment. I'm not fertile until tomorrow, so I'm still trying to make up my mind. Why did you pick a black man for me to have a child with? Wouldn't you want a child to look as much like you as possible if someone else were fathering our child? Are you sure you want me to get pregnant this way. We could use an anonymous sperm donor at a clinic. Why would you want me having sex with a real person?

I didn't expect to get an answer right away because of the lateness of the hour. I figured I'd get an answer in the morning, before I needed to make any sort of decision. Instead, I saw he started responding right away, so he must have been waiting for any kind of answer from me.

I don't care about the racial characteristics of our child. I also didn't want you to go to some clinic. I thought a natural conception would be a far more pleasurable and rewarding experience. I wanted someone nice and with a proven record of success. The women who previously took advantage of Joseph's services said he was the perfect choice for them. He was polite, a gentleman, tender, kind, and an exceptional lover. Exactly the sort of person I wanted for you. Please accept his services. I want you to. I hope you have a marvelous time. I love you.

I quickly answered back.

The idea of having sex with another man while I'm married, makes me uncomfortable. I'll take your wishes into account, but I may not make up my mind until tomorrow at the earliest. Don't pressure me. This is something I need to decide on my own.

As soon as I sent my response, I put the phone down.

"How is Reed?" Joseph asked.

"Fine. He was wondering what was going on, since I hadn't responded while our phones were turned off."

"What is going on? Will I be staying, or leaving?"

"I still don't know. I probably don't become fertile until tomorrow morning, so I'm using the time to make up my mind what I'm going to do. I still want to speak to your wife. I want to ensure I'm not mucking up your marriage, even if my husband doesn't believe I'll muck up mine. It's rather late. Is she likely to be awake now?"

"She's normally asleep by eleven, so no. Our kids keep her busy, especially while I'm gone like this. Tomorrow morning would be the best time to talk to her."

"Do you have a room at the hotel?"

He smiled, a very warm smile. "I planned on staying with you."

"If I let you sleep in my room, can I trust you to leave me alone unless I decide to proceed?"

"I'm extremely trustworthy." He smiled.

Joseph smiled a lot, as if he was very happy. So far, he hadn't given me any reason to doubt the validity of that statement. He'd been perfectly chivalrous and courteous in all respects. I decided to take him at his word.

"Do you have any clothes but what you're wearing?"

"I have a suitcase in the car."

"Why don't you get it when we've finished our drinks and I'll meet you at my room. I'm in room 1010."

"I'll drink to that," he said, with another smile. We clicked glasses. This is certainly not what I expected when I arrived at the hotel this afternoon. It had gone in completely unexpected directions, yet I couldn't help but feel a little tingle that I was going to be alone in a very nice hotel room with another man, not my husband, for my fifth wedding anniversary. A man that I was getting anticipatory shivers for.

******

When we finished our drinks, Joseph left for his suitcase, while I went to my room. I kicked off my shoes, but otherwise remained dressed, as I needed to open the door when Joseph arrived. I reread the letter Reed had given to Joseph to give to me. I still found it odd that he'd want me having sex with another man, especially one so masculine and physically tempting, yet I suppose if he chose an ugly person, our children could turn out ugly as well. I had very little doubt that any child I made with Joseph, would be beautiful, boy or girl.

Fifteen minutes after I arrived at the room, I heard a discreet knock at the door. I opened up and Joseph entered carrying a small suitcase and a garment bag, which looked to have a couple more suits in it. He entered the room, noting the skyline of Manhattan through the open windows, lighting up the horizon.

"Very nice." He hung up the garment bag and put his suitcase in the closet. "Why don't you take a shower first," Joseph said. "I'll take mine after you're done."

"We might have a bit of a problem," I said. "I wasn't planning on wearing much in the way of nightclothes on this trip. I'm afraid that all I have would be pretty scandalous if I decide I'm not going to have children with you."