Exquisite Exhilaration[ For A & T, in anticipation of their very first, and hopefully not their last, African inseminated c***d. ]Mara’s pregnant belly was so very smooth, yet firm; and I leaned over and kissed it, savoring as I did the warmth of her young flesh, and the tiny pale hairs that caught the light from the bedside table lamp that covered it. I also breathed in the special smell Mara’s skin always had—her bodies natural aroma, and as I breathed it in, my cock was stiff and erect, and pushing against my undershorts.Mara, noticing this, smiled up into my face.”Your excited,” she said.”Yes I am,” I replied truthfully, and a big part of my excited state was knowing that the baby inside Mara wasn’t mine, but Omar’s…the older African man from Zambia with whom Mara and I had met in Nairobi nearly nine months earlier.I ran my hands, palms down, over the curving expanse of my wife’s huge, pregnant belly, in slow, gentle circles, and as I did, I could feel the occasional thump of Omar’s baby against the inside of my wife’s womb; and it’s very aliveness, it’s vigor, it’s rambunctious energy, it’s health…filled me with a difficult to explain sensation of excitement and anticipation. This also made my cock stiffen. The offspring wasn’t mine, but Omar’s, but rather than leaving me feel jealous, or left-out, it made me feel such a powerful exhilaration.I raised up, still kneeling on the bed next to Mara, and she smiled again, and said: “Masturbate. Or, don’t you want to?”We both glanced down at my obvious erection, and when we made eye contact again, we both laughed at that. Mara wasn’t laughing AT my small cock, which, in contrast with that of Omar’s considerably bigger (much more massive!) cock, but at what my erection signified.Without saying anything, I pulled my undershorts down to just above my knees, and while still kneeling on the mattress next to my wife, I took my cock in my hand and began stroking it, slowly at first, but soon I was stroking it much kaçak iddaa more urgently. As I knelt there doing this, I thought back to the last time she and I had had intercourse. That had been several months before we went to Kenya to meet Omar; and so, and since I hadn’t had intercourse with her since we were in Kenya, that was nearly an entire year since she and I had intercourse. A long time, in some ways, but in others, those months had gone by extremely fast!Mara watched me as I stayed kneeling there beside her as I masturbated. Neither of us said anything. It felt good to masturbate, and though I was very, very much in love with Mara, it was curious that sex played so little a role in our daily relationship as husband and wife. I wasn’t complaining. Though odd to some, this sort of sex-less (as far as intercourse went) relationship didn’t seem odd to either of us! Not at all. In fact, from the very start of our marriage, we’d both agreed that Mara wanted to have African-fathered babies, not Caucasian ones, like mine would have been. This mainly had to do with a mutual aversion we both shared of the ugliness of racism, and of the v******e and intolerance of so-called ‘White Nationalism’, and ‘White Supremacy;’ which Mara and I both saw as a shameful part of our countries social history, even down to the present day—and so, for us, the only truly effective way to fight against that was for us to NOT have a family of our own (or rather, not with my genes), but with African genes instead; and that is exactly what we had done, and the fruit of those two weeks she and I had spent in Kenya with Omar was about to ‘bear fruit’ quite literally!It was with this thought in mind that I felt excited as I continued to masturbate!Mara’s swollen belly was up against my thighs as I kept stroking, and I watched as she ran her hands slowly over it in slow circles, it excited me to see her doing that. It excited me to think back to all those times Omar and her had fucked in kaçak bahis our hotel room; and I could clearly recall the powerful strokes of Omar’s huge black cock as it slid, in and out, in and out, of my wife’s tight, but very moist, pussy. The thought of that made my own, but much, much smaller cock, stiffen, and I knew that I’d soon be ejaculating my sperm. I wanted to. I wanted to do it so that it would explode all across Mara’s belly. I wanted to see my sperm like that; as it slowly oozed down either side, and onto the sheets; the pleasure of the release sweeping through me, but my sperm safely OUTSIDE, not inside, of her womb!I knew that Mara kept in touch with Omar, now and then, and I knew he was extremely excited to be kept informed of how this new c***d of his fared. Yes, it was true that he had nine other c***dren between his two wives back in Zambia, but it didn’t change the fact that he still was pleased that he had yet another c***d on the way (and, by a considerably younger, and white, married European female)! I shared with him the same sense of anticipation, of course.It didn’t take long before I was about to come, and as I felt the imperious urge growing suddenly stronger, I moaned out loud and told Mara I was close.”Mmmm,” she said smiling up at me, “do it. Come for me! I want you to come.”We both watched as my hand began to speed up it’s pumping action, and then…with a sudden, and uncontrollable shiver, that ran throughout my entire body (I couldn’t control it), I said: “I’m…I’m, I’m COMING!!” And that was exactly what I did.My first spurt of sperm blasted out a surprisingly long distance, but landed in a long, ropy stringer across Mara’s belly, which was followed immediately after that by a second spurt like the first, and then a third, and a forth, a fifth, and even and sixth, and final spurt; with each spurt slightly less than it’s previous one, until my balls no longer had anything left to give up.Mara smiled.”That was a big load for illegal bahis you!” The way she said that it was a compliment, and I smiled back at her as the intensity of the orgasm began to fade quickly; as it always seemed to do.”Thanks,” I said, looking down at it as it glistened on her bulging tummy.Where perhaps most men would have been sad, or even frustrated to see their own sperm, their ‘genetic heritage’ being deliberately, purposefully ‘wasted’, cast aside, dispensed with in such a manner, I did not share those emotions. I felt, rather…curiously ‘relieved.’ I thought of Omar just then, thousands of miles to the south of where Mara and I were; and that it was HIS sperm that had impregnated Mara, not mine; and this sent a thrill running through me. That, I found myself thinking, is the best, and even perhaps the ONLY way that Mara and I could do anything against the ugliness of white racism. When she and I had flown back home after being with Omar in Kenya, the thought occurred to, while in-flight, that customs would know absolutely nothing about there being an African bred baby inside of my wife’s womb; safe, secure, warm, nurtured, and anticipated with great enthusiasm by both it’s mother, as well as me. As I was thinking this, Mara handed me the box of tissue that sat on the side table next to the bed. I took it, and grabbing a large handful, I began methodically wiping up my sperm. Then, once it was all gone, I took it to the toilet and flushed it down. I stood there as the water swirled around and around, until the tissues, and my sperm they contained, disappeared. For a second I felt a curious twinge, that soon passed as I rejoined Mara on our bed; and we snuggled together, kissing and cuddling.My heart was full of emotion, but mainly with love for Mara—and now for the baby that was growing within her womb; Omar’s baby, rather than my own; but I already felt a great love growing in me as the baby grew in Mara. I would love, and cherish, that baby just as if it was ‘mine.’ It’s paternity really didn’t matter. All I wanted was for it to be whole and healthy. I’d be the best cuck-father I could possibly! I was totally dedicated to that proposition.The End