Sex Stories Exotic Porn

Erotic Stories Adult Story

The Fecund Fields: Thoughts of an Antebellum Cucko

They had begun sl**ping in separate rooms a few years before; at around the time that he had sensed something was amiss between them; and it was at nearly the same time, he remembered, that he had first suspected that his wife had someone else she preferred to that of himself—and particularly in matters of the heart, and especially in matters relating to that of the bedroom!

But now he no longer suspected, he was fully aware that Nancy was having an on-going 'liaison', and a sexual liaison in particular, with one of his own male slaves; Samuel. As he stood in front of the open French windows, with the faintly cool and damp early Spring breeze blowing, he could see out over one of the freshly plowed fields in the middle distance; and as he stood silently looking at it, the thought of the 'fecundity' of the field, and how similar it was to that of his wife's 'fecund field' (that is, of her womb), and that he was not the one 'plowing' that fertile groove; but that Samuel was!

The day before, he had supervised the plowing of the field he could see in the distance, and along each groove, each row, seed after seed after seed had been planted there. Even then, the similarity to that and Samuel plowing Nancy's moist niche, had provoked within him that strange merging of both pain, as well as that equally strange, but also undeniably pleasurable, 'ache' in his heart, as well as his groin!

He silently berated himself for the thrill he felt when picturing in his minds eye Nancy and Samuel trysting together on what had once been his own father and mothers bed, and yet, each time such a thought, such an image arose within him, he always felt the bitter-sweetness that he both loathed, as well as, he admitted, enjoyed!

Gazing out over the fields, he knew he should put a stop to Nancy's whoring. He could so easily bring it to a end. All he had to do was to sell Samuel to some other plantation owner, and there would be no more black man enjoying his own wife's bodily charms! After all, he had sold other slaves. Why not Samuel? He'd thought of getting rid of Samuel before. But, each time he did, he knew that some part of him, a part that seemed to grow stronger all the time, that didn't want to be rid of Samuel; and nor did he (really) wish Nancy to no longer tryst with this strong, handsome, and no doubt quite virile (it was undeniable) black man!

'What kinda husband am I,' he stood thinking, 'that finds the very thought of his lovely wife in the arms of another man, and a black man at that, so completely, and utterly, and powerfully—exhilarating?'

Even as he stood there, he felt his cock stirring under his night shirt. 'Oh god!' He thought. 'Here it goes again.' He stepped back from the French windows, and, as he did, he lifted his garment, and he took his pale cock in hand and began stroking it. As he did, he could easily see in his minds eye, Nancy's lovely cunt; as he had seen it before, as on their honeymoon night. She had a wonderfully dense bush of dark pubic hairs. He remembered searching through it with his fingers, and finding her moist cleft; and he remembered her tantalizing aroma (like the aroma of the gulf down by Mobile), and how hot, and moist, and so very pink she was as his fingers had gently, and tenderly, even shyly at first, spread her further apart. There had been such a sense of excitement within himself he clearly remembered of that night; and there had been this mesmerizing sense of mystery, of magic even, as his eyes had taken in the sight of Nancy's beautifully alluring cunt!

By now, his cock was as fully erect as it's small size (compared to that of Samuels!) could get, and as he thought back to that honeymoon night, and the sight of Nancy's virgin cunt, waiting, waiting for HIM to—to be the first to plow it's fecund groove, and of course he did so—but now, her cunt really belonged to Samuel, and not to him, even though by law, she WAS his, ALL HIS. The letter of the law forgot the deeper law of the heart.

"Oh, Nancy," He said softly out loud, while at the same time, he continued to stroke his cock. "I so LOVE you. I do. You surely must know that. Right?" His hand continued stroking his small cock, and as the moments passed quickly, so too, did his growing urge, his NEED to 'relieve' himself, to quell, even for only a short time, that never-failing sense of sexual un-fulfillment which often woke him in the middle of the night! As it had just a while ago.

Looking down at his cock as his hand stroked it, he resented, not Samuel for having the bigger cock, but he resented—God! Why, he had asked himself, had God made the white race to be the 'masters' of the black race, and yet, as almost a joke, he had so richly endowed them with so much larger, and desirable, and more highly preferable cocks, so that women, women such as his own wife, would naturally hunger after it?

He did not feel within himself to be the superior race over that of Samuel's; and certainly not, as he clearly saw how small his own cock really was, could he lie to himself that Samuel was inferior to himself! This admission of his own inherent inferiority to that of Samuel (and to all black men as well!), made him writhe on the horns of a dilemma that every Southern slave owner he knew wrestled with in their private thoughts every day of their lives!

The Slave vs. Master ideology was a total farce, a myth. This was a cancer, at the very heart of Antebellum society, and it was being expressed with absolute, undeniable clarity in the trysts between Nancy and Samuel; and, it was even more clearly demonstrated as he stood there alone in his room stroking his cock, all the while his mind was seething and roiling with the fact that his own wife greatly preferred one his own slaves lusty attentions to that of his!

In admitting this very fact, he felt both (a kind of) grief, and yet, at the same time, as he had felt many times before, a tremendous sense of a burdensome weight being lifted from his mind, his heart, in the moment leading up to his ejaculation!

At the moment of his release, he felt strangely, inexplicably(?) happy as he came—and as he did, he was holding in his minds eye, the thought, the image that sprang from the thought, of Samuel's big cock (and not HIS!) flooding Nancy's warm, moist, and eagerly receptive womb with his African seed; just as he had watched the day before as the plow gouged it's way across the fertile soil of the field at the foot of the house, and leaving behind it, countless seeds that, in due course of time, would sprout, take root, and produce an abundant crop, that (he fully understood) could also transpire within his wife's equally fecund field!

"Ah, ah GOD!" He suddenly said out loud as he watched his seed energetically spurting onto the wash stand table top in front of him.

He kept gasping as he continued to ejaculate, and as he did, he felt his legs quivering, and he felt light headed for a second or so; and then the thought occurred to him that his own seed was likely never going to lodge itself, let alone take root and grow, inside his wife's cunt. It was both a bitter, as well as a sweet, and utterly exhilarating realization for him!

"Oh, Nancy!" He said to the still air of the lonely room, as he slowly stopped stroking his now quickly flaccid cock.

She simply didn't want it ( his semen) there! She had said as much, though not in so many words! She would much rather carry Samuel's baby, rather than his; and even though the social repercussions of such a thing would forever destroy her social standing (not to mention his own) within the larger world of the South, he knew that Nancy would have maybe preferred such an ostracizing, than to be the mother of HIS baby.

When he was at last spent, he stood looking down at his seed, laying there across the dark wood table top; like a string of s**ttered pearls from a broken necklace, or so it reminded him of. Pearls were a valuable commodity. He had bought Nancy many strings of pearls! She valued those much more than his own 'pearls.' It was true. There was no use in denying it. In slowly coming to accept (had he truly, fully done so?), he had felt less—resentful. Less—envious? No. He still felt envy! How could he ever feel otherwise?

Perhaps he would, eventually, accept (fully and completely) his status as a— 'cuckold,' a word that he had heard used, derisively, and mockingly, by other plantation owners about other plantation owners who had a similar fate to that of his own; but once again, he felt strangely titillated by not just the word 'cuckold', but by it's definition also.

A cuckold, as he understood the word to refer to, meant a married man who's wife had a c***d by a man other than himself, and who, nevertheless, acted as a surrogate father to that other man's baby. Nancy wasn't pregnant by Samuel, or, she wasn't pregnant by him YET! But she was young. She was as fecund as the fields that stretched out and around the plantation!

Thinking of his wife's belly slowly swelling, getting bigger and bigger, as the months came and went, and all the time containing Samuel's off-spring, rather than his own, sent that strange sensation of both fear, as well as titillation, shivering through him. That such a reaction could be exhilarating at all, was yet one more proof (if any more needed to be given) of his own deep inferiority—as Nancy's husband, and his inferiority as a MAN in particular. But so it was.

As he wiped up the semen he had spilled moments before, he knew, deep down inside his soul, that there would come a day, and probably sooner, rather than later, when Nancy would tell him that she was carrying another man's c***d; and that 'other man', he already knew, would be Samuel.

'What will I do when that moment arrives?' He asked himself. It was not a matter of 'if', but 'when.' Samuel couldn't possibly plow Nancy's furrow as often as he suspected this occurred, and for his seed to fail to find a foot hold inside of her! God had made a man's seed, and the woman's womb, to eventually co-inhabit; and to produce offspring. Nancy's womb would carry Samuel's offspring, but never his own. The irony was rich. He was the Master over Samuel's very existence, and yet, Samuel, though 'owned' by him, had captured Nancy's heart, mind, and her very soul, in a way HE had completely failed to do himself!

'So, then, who', he asked himself, 'is the actual Master?' He was Master over a vast tract of productive lands, and over many slaves, but in the issue of being the husbandly master—he, himself, was the actual Slave.

He finished cleaning up and got dressed. He had projects to oversee in adjacent fields, and he would be kept busy doing so for most of the day. This was good, because in staying busy, he might not think quite so much about Nancy and Samuel, and his own role as cuckold! He could distract himself in that way, in the short term, but eventually, and especially after he had bid his wife goodnight, he would toss and turn on his bed, and wrestle with the restless exhilaration that flooded through his thoughts (just as, he knew, Samuel's seed flooded hotly into Nancy's lovely, but to himself, unattainable cunt)!

He was the undisputed master of so many people and things, he noted, with a sense of irony— but, he was by no means the master of his own wife, nor of her affections, and he held no power to invoke any sort of wifely passions from her towards himself! This, he assured himself, would never change.

Updated: December 17, 2016 — 1:34 am
Sex Stories Exotic Porn © 2017 Frontier Theme