Tim Watches His Wife's BBC Breeding

Tim sat in the corner of the master bedroom on the small wooden stool they’d bought specifically for this occasion, knees together like a schoolboy waiting to be scolded. The pink chastity cage locked around his tiny dick was already biting into him, the steel ring snug behind his balls, the short tube forcing his pathetic little white penis into a permanent tuck. A thin string of pre-cum had leaked from the slit and was now dripping onto the hardwood floor in slow, humiliating drops.

Kayla stood in front of him, hands on her wide hips, looking every inch the fertile goddess she was. At twenty-six, her body had only gotten thicker and juicier with the years of trying to conceive. Her heavy tits strained against a sheer white babydoll, the dark circles of her nipples clearly visible. The matching thong disappeared between the plump cheeks of her ass. She smirked down at her husband.

“Still can’t believe we’re actually doing this, huh, little guy?” She reached down and flicked the cage with one manicured nail. The metal clinked. Tim’s cock tried desperately to swell and failed miserably. “Two years of your sad little squirts and my womb is still empty. Tonight that changes. Marcus is going to breed me like you never could.”

Tim swallowed, voice hoarse. “I… I know, honey. I want this for you.”

Kayla laughed, bright and musical. “You want it for me? That’s adorable. You want to watch a real man with a real cock put a baby in me while your shriveled little white worm stays locked up. Say it.”

“I want to watch Marcus breed you,” Tim whispered, cheeks burning.

“Louder, cucky.”

“I want to watch Marcus breed you with his huge black cock!”

Kayla’s grin widened. She turned slowly, giving him a full view of her ass as she peeled the babydoll over her head. Her massive tits bounced free, nipples already stiff. She hooked her thumbs in her thong and slid it down her thick thighs, bending at the waist so her shaved, puffy pussy winked at him from between her legs.

“God, I’m so wet already,” she moaned, running two fingers along her slit and showing him the glistening strands. “This pussy knows it’s about to get what it needs. Not that sad little dribble you call cum. Real seed. Potent seed. BBC seed.”

The doorbell rang.

Kayla’s eyes lit up. “Stay right there. Don’t you dare move that caged clit.”

She practically skipped out of the room. Tim heard the door open, the deep rumble of Marcus’s voice, and then the sound of his wife giggling like a schoolgirl. A minute later they walked in together.

Marcus was six-foot-five of pure muscle, dark skin gleaming under the bedroom lights. He wore a tight black compression shirt and gray sweatpants that did nothing to hide the monstrous bulge swinging between his legs. He looked at Tim sitting there in nothing but the chastity cage and a pair of socks and let out a rich, amused chuckle.