The Night They Owned Us Both

We'd talked about it for years—fantasies whispered in the dark after sex, her small body curled against mine. My wife, Lila, is barely 5'1", delicate, pale skin, perky B-cups, and the kind of tight, pink pussy that still makes me hard just thinking about it. She's always been the good girl, the one who blushes at dirty talk. But lately, the idea of watching her get stretched and used by big black cocks had taken over my mind completely. And she knew it.
We found them through an app: Jamal and Dre. Both built like linebackers—tall, dark, muscled, with that quiet confidence that made my stomach twist. When they sent pics, my cock throbbed instantly. Thick, veiny, easily 9+ inches each, dark as night, the kind of dicks that look impossible on a screen. We set the rules: they could do whatever they wanted to her. I could watch. Maybe touch. But I wasn't allowed to cum unless they said so.
They came over on a Friday night. Lila wore the little black lingerie set I bought her—lace that barely covered anything, garters, stockings. She looked nervous, excited, cheeks already flushed. I opened the door in just boxers, heart hammering.
Jamal stepped in first, towering over me, gave me a slow nod. "This the little husband?"
Dre followed, smirking. "He looks ready to cry already."
They didn't wait. Jamal pulled Lila to him by the waist, kissed her deep while Dre stood behind her, hands roaming her ass, squeezing. She whimpered into Jamal's mouth. I stood there, cock leaking in my boxers, watching my tiny wife disappear between two huge black bodies.
They moved her to the living room couch. Jamal sat, pulled her onto his lap facing him. Dre stood in front of her. They stripped her slow—bra off, panties tugged down her thighs. Her nipples were hard little points. When Jamal spread her legs wide, exposing her shaved pussy to the room, Dre dropped to his knees and buried his face in her.
Lila gasped, head falling back. "Oh god… oh fuck…"
Jamal grinned at me over her shoulder. "Your wife's pussy tastes sweet, man. You ever make her this wet?"
I shook my head. I hadn't. Not like this.
They took turns eating her out until she was shaking, thighs trembling, begging. Then Jamal lifted her like she weighed nothing, carried her to our bedroom, tossed her on the bed on all fours. Dre got behind her, fat cock slapping against her ass cheeks.
"Look at your husband," Dre said, voice low. "Tell him how bad you want this big black dick."
Lila looked back at me, eyes glassy. "I want it so bad, baby… I need their big cocks…"
Dre pushed in slow. The head alone stretched her lips wide, pink turning white around his thickness. She cried out—half pain, half pleasure—as inch after inch disappeared inside her. When his hips met her ass, she was trembling, mouth open in a silent scream.
Jamal moved to her face, fed her his cock. She gagged immediately, spit dripping, but she took it, small hands braced on his thighs. They started a rhythm—Dre pounding her pussy from behind, Jamal fucking her throat. Her body rocked between them like a ragdoll. Every thrust made her moan around the dick in her mouth.
I stood at the foot of the bed, stroking myself, humiliated and harder than I'd ever been. They kept talking.
"Look at him jerking that little white dick," Jamal laughed. "He knows he can't fill her like we can."
"She's gripping me so tight," Dre groaned. "This pussy was made for BBC."
They switched. Jamal took her pussy now, stretching her even wider. Dre moved to her mouth. She was drooling, mascara running, completely lost. When Jamal bottomed out, she came hard—squirting around his cock, soaking the sheets. I almost came just watching.
Then they decided to double her.
They laid her on her back. Dre slid underneath, pulling her down onto his cock. She sank slowly, whimpering as he filled her pussy again. Jamal knelt between her legs, rubbed his slick head against her already-stuffed entrance.
"No… wait… too big…" she gasped.
But Jamal pushed. Slow. Relentless. Her eyes rolled back as the second thick cock forced its way in beside the first. Double penetration—two massive black dicks stretching her tiny pussy to the limit. She screamed, body shaking, nails digging into Dre's shoulders.
They fucked her like that—slow at first, then harder. Her body jolted with every thrust. She kept cumming, one orgasm crashing into the next, voice hoarse from crying out.
I was on my knees now, inches from where they were ruining her. Jamal looked down at me.
"You wanna taste what real men do to your wife?"
I nodded, desperate.
He pulled out, cock glistening with her juices, and fed it to me. I opened wide, tasting her sweetness mixed with his musk. I sucked him clean while Dre kept fucking her, then switched. They took turns making me clean their cocks—straight from her wrecked pussy to my mouth—while she watched, moaning, calling me her good little cuck.
When they were ready to finish, they pulled out and stood over her. I knelt beside the bed, face level with their cocks. They stroked themselves, grunting, until they both erupted—thick ropes of cum painting her face, her tits, her open mouth. Some landed on me too, hot and sticky across my cheeks.
Lila lay there panting, covered, ruined, beautiful. She reached for my hand, squeezed it weakly.
Jamal patted my head like I was a dog. "Good boy. You can cum now."
I stroked myself twice and exploded—weak spurts compared to theirs—onto the floor while they laughed.
They dressed, kissed Lila goodbye, and left. She curled into me afterward, still sticky, still trembling.
"You okay?" I whispered.
She smiled, sleepy, satisfied. "I want them again… soon."
I kissed her cum-smeared lips.
So did I.