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Read from here : 👉 #Cuckold #Interracial #Rape #Teen20 hours ago1.8k words | | 3.33 | 👁️ Jcace
My little wife Amber becomes a birthday present.
The tension coiled in my chest like a live wire as Jamal’s gaze locked onto Amber from the kitchen doorway, his hulking silhouette filling the frame. At fifteen, going on sixteen, he was a beast—six-foot-three of solid muscle, broad chest straining his shirt, arms like coiled pythons from endless gym sessions and street scraps. He’d been eyeing my wife since he hit puberty, back when he was just a scrawny kid lurking at pool parties, but now? That crush had fermented into something predatory. He’d shoulder-checked me in the driveway more times than I could count, smirking as I stumbled, while Amber and Latoya dissolved into fits of laughter. ‘Oh, sweetie, don’t let a little boy rattle you like that,’ Amber would coo, her fingers trailing my arm mockingly. Latoya, with her sharp features and voluptuous curves, would pile on: ‘Yeah, grown-ass man scared of some teen muscle? Pathetic.’
Latoya had planted the seed weeks ago, cornering Amber during one of their wine-soaked chats. ‘My boy’s turning sixteen—big milestone. He wants you as his date, girl. That crush ain’t fading; it’s fire now.’ Amber had hesitated, glancing at me with those wide blue eyes, but Latoya’s persuasion was relentless, laced with that maternal authority. ‘Come on, be a good friend. Let him have his fantasy night.’ And just like that, my petite blonde—five-four of soft curves and golden waves—was roped in. They both turned on me next: ‘You’ll pay for it all, cucky. New outfit, wheels—make it special for the young king.’
I shelled out for the bridal boutique haul, Latoya dictating every pick over the phone. The lingerie set was pure sin: a white strapless bustier that cinched Amber’s narrow waist, pushing her firm C-cups high and exposed, the lace edging teasing her hardening nipples. Attached garters dangled like promises, meant to clip onto sheer white lace-topped stockings that whispered up her smooth legs. And the heels—towering white stilettos with red soles, forcing her ass into a perky arch. The dress? A strapless mini in bridal white, fabric so clingy it molded to her hips like a second skin, hem barely grazing mid-thigh. One breeze, and her bare pussy—shaved clean on Latoya’s orders—would be on display. ‘No panties for dates like this,’ Latoya had decreed. ‘Black boys want that white slit ready and waiting.’
Her dominance over Amber ramped up fast. What started as ‘harmless’ suggestions turned commanding. ‘Young studs like Jamal need their bitches broken in—timid, on their knees, craving the lead.’ The first heroin hit came disguised as a ‘relaxer’ during a spa day, the needle slipping into Amber’s vein under Latoya’s steady hand. ‘Just a taste, baby. Loosens you up, makes you pliable.’ Amber’s protests melted into a hazy sigh, her body slumping as the warmth spread, eyelids fluttering. Addiction hooked deep quick—cravings gnawing by morning, track marks hidden under sleeves. Latoya escalated: full syringes now, often cut with fentanyl for that knockout punch, turning my wife’s lithe frame into a quivering mess. She’d twitch on the couch, fingers digging into her thighs, whispering pleas for the next fix. ‘Look at you, junkie slut,’ Latoya would murmur, prepping the rig. ‘All doped and desperate—perfect for my boy’s cock.’
Birthday night hit like a storm. Our bedroom reeked of perfume and fear, Latoya perched on the vanity stool like a queen, her dark eyes drilling into us. ‘Dress your whore, loser. Make her shine for real dick.’ Amber sat on the bed’s edge, already needled with a heavy dose—fentanyl-laced heroin flooding her system, making her skin flush hot, pupils blown wide. She kept her chin tucked, blonde strands curtaining her shame-flushed face as I knelt to slide the stilettos onto her dainty feet. The heels locked her calves taut, arching her spine into vulnerability. My fingers trembled rolling the stockings upward, lace bands snapping against her thighs, garters tugging firm. Latoya’s voice lashed out: ‘Hurry up, you limp-dick fool. Can’t even prep your own bitch right. And her? Head down like the guilty cum-dump she is, twitching for her high.’
Amber bit her lip as I fastened the bustier, the boning squeezing her ribs, breasts spilling over the cups in lewd invitation, nipples stiffening against the cool air. The mini dress zipped next, hugging her flat belly and flaring ass, the neckline plunging to tease cleavage. She rose unsteadily, the ensemble screaming bridal filth—pure for the taking. Latoya circled, hiking the skirt an inch higher. ‘That’s it—expose that eager white gash. The fentanyl’s got her mellow, no spine left in this little fucktoy.’ A faint ‘No…’ slipped from Amber’s lips, but her body leaned into the haze, hips swaying subtly. I clipped a velvet choker around her throat—Latoya’s ‘leash’—the material warm against her pulse. ‘It stings,’ she mumbled, pawing at the fresh puncture on her arm, drugs swirling her thoughts into fog.
‘Photo op, bitch-boy,’ Latoya barked, shoving her phone into my grip. Jamal burst in then, a wall of youthful power in jeans and a tight tee, his dark skin gleaming under the lights, bulge already tenting. ‘Damn, Amber, you dressed to get destroyed.’ His tone dripped ownership as he slung an arm around her slim shoulders, pulling her against his heat. I captured it all—his palm kneading her ass cheek through the dress, her strained smile with averted eyes, him rutting his hardness against her side while Latoya hooted. ‘Car keys and the slut—fork ’em over.’ My stomach knotted handing the fob to my pride-and-joy sports car, watching him haul her out by the waist, her stilettos clicking in protest.
Latoya blocked the door. ‘Window watch, worm. See your trophy get flaunted.’ The engine roared, peeling out with the top down, Amber’s hair whipping as Jamal cruised the boulevards. He showed her off shamelessly: looping the mall parking lot where teens whistled and snapped pics, cruising main street amid traffic jams of gawking drivers, even idling at a lit-up diner where locals murmured. ‘Who’s the milf with the kid?’ Heads turned, stares lingering on her exposed thighs and bustier peeks, my gut churning with public disgrace. Amber just melted against him, the dope erasing her fire into blank obedience.
They rolled back after midnight, air thick with exhaust and musk, Latoya lounging in our den like it was hers. ‘Bedroom, now—time for the real party.’ She jabbed another load into Amber’s neck, the opioid cocktail slamming home, my wife collapsing onto the mattress with a throaty keen, skirt flipping to reveal her glistening labia, swollen from the ride’s teasing. Jamal shed his clothes in a blur, his monster cock springing free—nine inches of veined ebony, thick as my wrist, precum beading the slit. He kicked her legs apart roughly, no foreplay, just raw intent. ‘Dreamed of pounding this snatch forever. Scream if you want—won’t change shit.’
Phone in my shaking hand, I filmed under Latoya’s glare, her nails digging into my shoulder. ‘Get every brutal second, cuck—her ruin for the world.’ Jamal mounted her like a conqueror, fat head nudging her entrance before slamming balls-deep in one vicious surge, her tight channel stretching obscenely around his girth. Amber’s shriek tore free—’God, it’s ripping me! Mercy, please!’—but the drugs dulled the edges, her slick walls clenching involuntarily, juices easing his plunder. He hammered forward, hips pistoning with savage force, sack slapping her perineum in wet smacks, the bedframe groaning under the assault.
‘Fuck, this pussy’s choking my meat—prime white hole built for black ruin,’ Jamal growled, fisting her hair to yank her head back, exposing her throat as he drilled her cervix with punishing jabs. Her begs splintered into guttural cries, fentanyl twisting agony into illicit throbs, her clit pulsing against his grinding pubes. Latoya hissed in my ear: ‘Close-up on that split, loser. Watch her juices foam on his shaft while he breaks her.’ Amber’s frame convulsed, an unwanted orgasm crashing—cunt spasming in frantic grips, squirting clear nectar that soaked his balls and the sheets. ‘Yeah, flood me, you blitzed cum-rag.’
He ramped up, thrusts turning feral, sweat dripping from his brow onto her heaving tits as he mauled them free from the bustier, pinching rosy peaks. With a primal bellow, he buried to the hilt, cock throbbing as ropes of thick seed blasted her depths—hot, viscous floods painting her womb, excess bubbling out around his embedded length. He rocked through the pulses, milking every drop into her quivering core, her garters straining as her legs locked around him in drugged reflex. ‘Swallow it deep, breed-bitch—fill that junkie gut.’ He withdrew with a obscene pop, her abused folds gaping, creamy strands oozing down her crack, body shuddering in depleted waves.
Latoya snatched the phone, fingers flying: ‘Sixteen-Year-Old Stud Breeds Doped White Wife—Full Raw Destruction.’ It went viral fast, notifications buzzing with filth: ‘Cuck’s wife is prime meat,’ ‘More doses, make her beg,’ ‘Crew next?’ Jamal just chuckled, smacking her inner thigh. ‘My personal fuck now, slut.’
The ‘dating’ phase devoured us. Jamal’s outings were conquests—quick fixes in backseats before he’d bend her over the hood, railing her senseless amid honking passersby. He summoned his posse—four ripped black teens, all packing heat—invading our space for all-night sessions. Bound to a dining chair, my ribs cracking under their boots and punches, I’d endure the show: Latoya spiking Amber’s arms with mega-hits, her form going limp then feverish, eyes glazing as the first thug impaled her mouth, gagging her on salty inches while Jamal split her sopping depths.
They tag-teamed without mercy—one reaming her throat until drool cascaded, another forcing her ass open with spit-lubed fury, the dual invasion drawing her into hallucinatory peaks; Jamal swapping in to stuff her pussy alongside, triple-filling until she erupted in gushing chaos. Blows hammered me between their turns—Jamal’s uppercuts splitting my lip, kicks crumpling me as Amber’s vacant stare witnessed my torment, her holes weeping mixed loads, belly distending from the barrage. Clips exploded online: her lithe body glazed in perspiration and spunk, entrances wrecked and dripping, the opioids chaining her to the cycle of highs and violations.
Latoya orchestrated the chaos, needle poised, cooing, ‘Hooked on the burn and the breeding—your forever fix, doll.’ Amber’s spirit fractured into shards of want, her small frame scarred and reshaped, eternally Jamal’s plaything. I chronicled the abyss, shame twisting with forbidden heat, our lives a maelstrom of subjugation and surrender.
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