Meet me here for breakfast?"She laughed. "Are you trying to fatten me up?" Hell no! You're perfect just as you are. I'll go a bit lighter this time, okay?" Okay, I trust you. I'll see you Friday morning at our usual eight-thirty."I liked the sound of that conversation. She was still acting like last weekend wasn't some kind of aberration ... or worse ... a mistake. No ... I liked the sound of that just fine.Charlotte was ten minutes early on Friday morning, a fact which further reinforced my belief that we had something going. Something well beyond business. I'd warmed some fresh blueberry bran muffins, prepared a couple of soft boiled eggs, two pieces of toast and a fresh fruit salad. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I'd made a good choice."I haven't had a soft boiled egg in eons," she said. "I usually cut the toast in strips and dip them in the egg yolk first." Go ahead, it sounds good. I might try it myself."I did, and I liked it. My mother had taught me the proper way to. I watched myself in the large mirror above the sink in front of me; my small cock head bobbing slightly, up and down, as I held it loosely in my hand. There I was, newly married, my new and lovely bride was in the bed just outside the restroom, asleep, and yet I wasn't engaging in the typical honeymoon night sex as most other newly married couples did at this time. Instead, I was masturbating, and as I masturbated, I was feeling incredibly excited, and more than a little exhilarated at the thought of my wife having sex with some other man, and an African man, especially; but the real thrill was that she would conceive a baby with him, rather than mine!The particular thought sent a strong wave of sexual energy through me, and I knew that it wouldn't be long at all before I was at the point of ejaculating my sperm (that would never find it's way into my young brides womb)! It didn't take long. When I felt the orgasm rising upwards fast, my hand automatically sped up, and suddenly, as I.
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