0 comments/ 17547 views/ 9 favorites Marriage with Miranda By: brethard Now more than ever, Miranda was determined not to lose Martin. She was unable to stop thinking about him, unable to imagine life without him. She found herself getting nervous whenever he would go on trips to clients, fearful that that a plane crash or a terrorist incident would take her away from him; she tried to limit her own travel as much as possible, for fear that she would never see him again in this life. She was determined to spend as much time with him as possible, at one point even jokingly concluding her e-mails with, "Your clingy girlfriend, Miranda." She loved being his girlfriend, loved being in bed with him. She became a more accommodating lover, overcoming whatever hesitation she had about anal sex to eagerly yield her asshole to him. Yet she wanted something more. She wanted to become Mrs. Miranda Kelly-Roberts. Miranda became obsessed with the idea of marriage, hinting at the idea in their chats with Martin. He told her that he didn't often think about what it would be like to be married: after all, he stated, "Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell have a good thing going, don't they?" He always smiled when he said that line. Miranda believed that Martin was just skittish about whether they could make a marriage last, whether such an uncommon union could prevail throughout the decades. She believed it could. She believed love would keep them together. One night, after a lengthy lovemaking session, as Martin slept, Miranda quietly measured the finger on his left hand. -- In mid-October, as they walked through Central Park, Miranda pulled Martin aside. "I have to ask you something." Martin was stunned by her radiance. Her red hair perfectly complemented the fall leaves, her ivory skin a beautiful contrast to her dark blue jacket and sweater. Miranda was nervous. She didn't want to stammer in front of this gorgeous black man. She touched the sleeve of his blue coat, looked at his beautiful face, and took a deep breath. "Martin..." "Yes..." "You know that I love you, and..." She stopped in nervous hesitation, then gripped his forearm. Martin was stunned by the sight of her pale knuckles clenched to his limb. "Martin, you don't know this, but I thank God every day that he brought me to America to meet you!" Martin's heart stopped. He knew Miranda was a casual Catholic, but she mentioned God about as much as he did, which was never, orgasms notwithstanding. What was going on? "Martin, I love you with every beat of my heart, and I want to live with you forever. And so I have a question to ask you..." She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small blue box, opening it to reveal a golden ring. She dropped to one knee. "Martin Roberts...Mr. Roberts...will you marry me?" She began crying, as if fearing a negative answer. "Will you have me as your wife?" Martin certainly wasn't expecting this. But there was only one answer on his mind. "Hell yes! Absolutely!" Miranda jumped into the air, and the two embraced and kissed. -- Miranda insisted upon a low-key wedding. She recalled the family members who spent big money on lavish weddings, only to get divorced in less than five years. She was determined not to have that happen. She wanted a causal wedding, with just a few friends around, with dinner and drinks and a small cake. Nothing fancy. Martin agreed. He was still a bit nervous, however. Like Miranda, his parents were dead now, but he still had family in New York. Would they want to attend? Would they accept the fact that he wanted to marry a white woman, and a foreign one at that? And what about Miranda's family in Perth? Would they fly over here to attend? What if they didn't want her to marry a black American man? Over the course of several weeks, Martin and Miranda made plans to visit Martin's relatives in New York, as well as Miranda's relatives in Perth. The meetings were awkward, to say the least--Martin's cousin Harold, an NYPD cop like Martin's late dad, asked Miranda if she was marrying Martin just to get a green card, while Miranda's sister Miriam kept on asking probing questions about their sex life--but thankfully, no one specifically stated that they disapproved of the idea of the couple getting married. Not one person in their respective families indicated interest in attending the wedding, however. Martin and Miranda weren't really bothered. Very few people, relatives or not, could understand the magic they had together. Martin knew some of the best immigration attorneys in New York, so the couple were able to navigate the tricky terrain of preparing to marry someone from another country. Yet there was a potentially more difficult road that Miranda wanted to journey on with Martin. -- Occasionally, Miranda brought up the idea of possibly having children once the wedding took place. Martin was less than enthusiastic about the idea. "Having kids is so expensive," he asserted. "I would want to put them in the best schools, and the best schools are the priciest!" "I know, but..." "And what about college? It took me years to make a dent in my debt!" "Good point, but..." "And, well..." Martin didn't know how to explain to Miranda that he was nervous about their children confronting bigotry in the U.S., so he came up with a euphemism. "We'd probably have to raise them in Australia. Not that I'd mind moving, but wouldn't you miss America?" Miranda indeed understood what Martin meant, but she held fast to her idealism. She believed that things would get better in the U.S., and that they could not be governed by their fears. They never fought over this, but Martin made it clear that he wasn't interested in having children. "It was rough for me growing up," he told her. "Very rough. I think it would be even rougher for our kids, no?" Miranda understood his point, but she also understood that he might change his mind under the right circumstances... -- As the wedding day approached, Miranda began to have ever more vivid fantasies of conceiving a child with Martin. She dreamed of what it would be like to have Martin's enormous black cock enter her willing white pussy, pumping in and out of her until his strong seed filled her up. She wanted to feel his semen move through his cock-head right into her body, and commence the process of creating a little one. She wanted to kiss him and hold him at the exact moment his jizz moved into her, the perfect formation of two becoming one. It occurred to her that this was fated to happen, that destiny had prepared her to be the wife of a gorgeous black man and the mother of cute mixed children. She remembered the childhood crushes she had developed on the black jazz artists on the covers of her dad's CDs, the times she played with herself as a teenager to the photos of naked chocolate men on the Internet. She wanted to connect to Martin body and soul, to physically tie their destinies together, to link her proud Irish/English/Scottish heritage to his bold black heritage, to sew the threads of America and Australia together. It made her hot, the thought of a black American cock penetrating her white Australian pussy and leaving his warm cum as a gift. It made her laugh, the idea of her black baby coming into her nine months before a black baby came out of her. It made her smile, the notion of her naturally tanned child being able to play outdoors in the sun, something she could never do in Perth due to her paleness. All she had to do was to figure out a way to get him to fuck her without a condom on. She would become pregnant, and tell Martin that although she wasn't the most devout person in the world, she was still Catholic, and that the idea of terminating the pregnancy would be out of the question. This would not be manipulation, she reasoned. He can be a good father. He can be a great father. And, above all, I want more than anything in this world to be the mother of his children. -- On a Saturday night in June, in the large Manhattan condo they now shared, with work colleagues from both firms in attendance, Martin Roberts and Miranda Kelly exchanged vows and rings in front of a justice of the peace. Miranda felt blessed to be marrying this lovely man, his smooth cocoa skin covered by a black suit, crisp white shirt and blue tie. Martin was enthralled by the sight of his bride, whose long red hair fell over the back of a dress that was almost indistinguishable from her alabaster skin. When the justice told Martin he could kiss his bride, he embraced Miranda and kissed her with every bit of passion his body could muster. After three hours of wine, cake, music and laughter, the guests left, and Martin and Miranda tidied up. Miranda kissed Martin on his earlobe and said that she wanted to take a shower. "Would you care to join me, Mr. Roberts?" Martin smiled. "Sure thing, Miss Kelly." Miranda playfully slapped his shoulder. "That's Mrs. Kelly-Roberts now." Martin and Miranda quickly undressed and entered the shower. As they embraced, Miranda's white hand gave Martin's black bottom a playful squeeze. "Are you ready...baby?" Martin kissed her. "Definitely." As they began to touch each other's bodies, images flashed through Miranda's mind: ultrasounds, labor, stretch marks, breast-feeding, day care, kindergarten, high school, college. She looked down at another image: Martin's steely cock, harder than ever before and filled with the stuff that would make her a mother. She looked up at Martin's eyes and smiled, as if to say: No worries. I'm ready for it, mate. Marriage with Miranda: Cousin Claire Nine months after her steamy shower with her husband Martin, Miranda Kelly-Roberts gave birth to fraternal twins Patrick and Kylie. The newborns were quite a handful, and the combination of high-pressure legal careers and high-pressure parenthood eventually took its toll on Martin and Miranda's sex life. Miranda in particular was too drained from work and motherhood to even think of sex. Martin, however, still wanted to make love to his beautiful Australian wife, and felt a great sense of frustration when Miranda told him she didn't have the energy. He turned his sexual attention elsewhere, spending every spare moment on adult sites and masturbating almost constantly. Sometimes, Miranda would wake up to check on their babies, only to come back and see Martin pumping his big black cock in his hand. Miranda became nervous about Martin's unmet sexual needs. She started noticing how often he would stare at the attractive young female associates at Laine Lerman, how much he would subtly flirt with them, how long he would wait to release their hands after a handshake. The associates knew Martin and Miranda were married, and yet they wouldn't hesitate to tell Miranda how hot and sexy her husband was, how jealous they were of her, how they wished he was still single. Nervousness soon became paranoia. Miranda would check his unlocked phone to see if he was texting any of the associates, and went through his e-mail to find out if there was any evidence he was cheating on her. There was no proof that Martin was having an affair, but he certainly had ample opportunities to do so-what if another opportunity availed itself? Miranda thought of Martin going to bed with a younger, hotter associate, cumming into the tight pussy of a lady who could please her husband in a way she did prior to the pregnancy. The thought made her angry, depressed, confused. She loved Martin and did not want to lose him. Yet she knew he had strong sexual desires, desires that marriage and fatherhood would not and could not diminish. Then Miranda had another thought: what if she could control who Martin had an affair with? It wouldn't be so bad if she knew the person he cheated on her with. It even would be OK. That thought made her smile. - "So, welcome to New York!" Miranda and Martin hugged Claire and helped pull her luggage from the taxi. As they made their way up the elevator to their condo, Martin couldn't help staring at his wife's cousin. Claire Robyn Kelly had just turned 22 years old, and was hotter than the 92-degree temperature that early-July afternoon. She was tall and tanned, with waist-length curly blonde hair and blue eyes; right above her jean shorts and right below her hot pink tank top, Martin saw a small star tattoo. He looked at her large gold earrings, her gold sunglasses and gold bracelets, and found himself unable to restrain sexual thoughts. Claire had done some modeling in Perth, and had taken some acting and dancing classes; she had also won several singing contests and had recorded a number of demos. This was her first trip to New York, and Martin thought that with her looks and personality, it would not be the last. "Wow...this place is fucking gorgeous!" Claire remarked as they entered the condo. "Thanks," Miranda replied, pulling the luggage near the sofa. "You're sure this will be big enough for you?" "Yeah, this should be fine," Claire replied. Miranda smiled. "Martin, stop staring at Claire and help us out!" "Oh, right," an embarrassed Martin replied, jumping back in shame. "No worries, mate," Claire laughed. "OK." After they unpacked, Claire asked to see Patrick and Kylie. The three walked over to the crib nearby, where the twins were sleeping. "Oh my God-they're so gorgeous!" Claire said softly as she looked at the twins. "I am so jealous of you, Miranda-I so want to be a mum." "Well, it's certainly not that easy." "I know, I know...but still, I'd love to. I think it'd be cool to be a younger mum. Especially to a baby girl-we could be almost like sisters!" Martin nodded his head. "Well," Miranda replied, "you'll certainly find out what it's like before the end of the summer!" - Claire was an extraordinarily hard worker, and she impressed Miranda and Martin with how well she took care of Patrick and Kylie. Her love for her cousin's children was genuine; she sometimes seemed upset when they went to sleep, since she wouldn't have a chance to keep playing with them. One Friday night in mid-July, Martin had to go on a trip to a conference in Virginia. Miranda and Claire spent that evening playing with Patrick and Kylie before putting the babies to bed. Afterwards, Miranda pulled Claire into the bathroom and shut the door. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" "Sure." "You get along with Martin, right?" "Yeah. He's a great guy, he's very handsome...you really got a good one!" "OK. But do you like him?" "Yeah, yeah...what do you mean?" Miranda grabbed Claire's hand. "I need you to do me two favors." Claire was puzzled. "Uh, what kind?" "Well, first..." Miranda reached into her purse and pulled out $500. "Take this-I need you to go in town tomorrow and buy the sexiest outfits you can get your hands on-the shortest skirts, the tightest T-shirts, everything. I need you to look as hot as possible. Also, you need to throw out all of your bras-no more bras around here." "Uh, OK..." "Second, I'm going to be out of town in two weeks for a meeting in Miami. It'll only be a couple of days. While I'm gone..." Miranda paused, and looked right into Claire's eyes. "I want you to fuck Martin. I want you to seduce him." "Wait, what?" "Yes. I need you to do this. I need you to fuck him. Please." "Why?" "Look, we're..." Miranda bit her lip. "We're having problems with our marriage. Ever since the babies...Martin has a high sex drive. He wants a lot of sex. I can't...I can't satisfy him that way. I love him, but I can't satisfy him like that." Claire nodded. "I'm afraid he may be preparing to have an affair. He...he loves white women, as you might have guessed, and there are so many white girls at work who just want to throw themselves at him." "I understand." "I don't want him to cheat on me. I don't want him to have an affair...but I figure that if he has sex with somebody I know, somebody I can trust...and it's in my own home...then it's not really an affair. It's not really cheating." "All right." "Claire, I'm asking you because I trust you. I'll pay you for this. I'll help you out with your career-we have a lot of entertainment clients, I can pull some strings. But I need you to help me with this. Please." Claire sighed. "Uh...I don't want to break up your marriage." "You won't. Don't worry about that." Claire paused. "Is he big?" Miranda smiled, and spread her hands about ten inches apart. "Crikey!" Claire yelled. "I should pay *you* then!" The two Aussie ladies laughed. "But I do have one question." "Sure," Miranda replied. "What if he says no? What if he says he doesn't want to fuck me?" "He won't say no. Here's what you have to do..." Miranda cupped her hand over Claire's mouth and whispered in her ear. Claire nodded excitedly. - Two weeks later, in her Miami hotel room, Miranda turned on her iPad and activated an app that allowed her to see the live feed of the hidden camera she had set up in the bedroom before catching her flight. She could see Claire and Martin talking. Claire was wearing a tight black tank top and black hot pants; Martin was wearing a striped blue shirt and black pants. There was no audio, but the video's image was sharp enough for Miranda to make out what they were saying by reading lips. Claire gestured to the kitchen, and appeared to say something about wanting a snack. Then, she clearly said something about wanting some chocolate, and whipped off her tank top to expose her breasts. As if drawn by a magnet, Martin quickly moved towards Claire, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her nipples. He ripped off his own shirt and T-shirt, pulled down his pants and boxers, and exposed his massive black cock to her. For the next hour, Miranda watched as Martin and Claire groped, kissed, licked and sucked each other. At one point, Martin bent Claire over and pounded her doggy-style, gripping her long blonde hair and slapping her firm ass. Shortly thereafter, Claire's long legs were in the air as Martin's ass bounced up and down, his big black American cock pleasing her sweet white Australian pussy. Claire's fingernails dug into Martin's back as she hollered in lusty pleasure. Miranda nearly dropped the iPad as she played with her pussy. The sight of her husband embracing, kissing, licking and fucking her cousin was just too erotic to bear. Miranda groaned as she brought herself to orgasm, the iPad finally falling to the plush carpet. - Martin and Miranda looked through the window as Claire waved goodbye and climbed into the taxi. It was a cool Labor Day weekend, and Patrick and Kylie were taking a nap. As the taxi pulled away, Martin suddenly burst into tears. Miranda touched his shoulder and asked him what was wrong. "Miranda, I have something to tell you." "What is it?" Martin sighed. "When you were in Miami..." "Yes..." "When you were in Miami, Claire and I...we got into a little conversation. It was about...it was about nothing at all, nothing important..." "Yes..." "Well, uh...during this conversation...uh, things took an unexpected turn. I don't know what happened..." "Uh-uh..." "But, uh...one thing led to another...and...uh...Claire came on to me...and, uh...it was in the heat of the moment. I wasn't thinking...and..." "And?" Martin sighed. "She came on to me and...we...we...I...I...we...we had sex. I-I had sex with her." Miranda tried to restrain a smirk. "OK." Martin's jaw almost fell from his body. "What? 'OK'?" "Well, it's not like you fucked a stranger." Martin didn't know what to say. "Look," Miranda said. "Claire is sexy, and you're a guy. Something's gotta give, right?" "No," Martin replied. "I was wrong." "Did you like fucking her?" "Huh?" "Well, did you like fucking her? It's OK if you say yes. I won't be offended." "Uh...uh..." "It's OK," Miranda replied. "Martin, I'm not mad at you, OK? I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you." Miranda kissed Martin and patted him on the shoulder. "Now, if it was one of those girls at work...I would have thrown you out, filed for divorce and sought sole custody." - Martin's sense of guilt did not fade after Miranda said she forgave him; in fact, the guilt seemed to kill whatever remaining sexual urges he had after he fucked Claire. The guilt became even more intense on the first Sunday in November, when Claire called his wife from Perth. "Big news," Claire said. "Been waiting a little bit to tell you. I'm pregnant!" "Really!" shouted Miranda as she ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind a stunned Martin, who could not hear Claire's words. "Now, Martin's the only guy I've ever been with who wasn't wearing a condom, so it's pretty obvious he's the father." "Wow," Miranda smiled. "So, what do you plan to do?" "I want to keep the baby," Claire replied. "I always wanted to be a mum, and a young mum, so this is awesome! I'm so thrilled." "Don't know if Martin's gonna be." "Look," Claire said, "Please tell him not to worry. I don't want him to feel any obligation. I know I can handle this by myself. It won't be easy, but I know I can take care of this and be a good mum." "I know," Miranda whispered. "By the way, I meant what I said-I'll take care of you. I owe you. You saved my marriage. Now, it might be easier to do that if you come back to New York and have the baby, because so many of my connections are based here." "Yeah," said Claire. "Look, I have to think about that-a part of me wants my baby to be raised in Australia, to know the country his mum came from. But you're right, career-wise, going to New York is probably better." "OK. Well, it's up to you." Martin broke down when Miranda told him that Claire was pregnant, and that he was the father. He began to cry uncontrollably, telling Miranda that he never meant to hurt her, that his night with Claire was a mistake, that he would never cheat on her again. He then called Claire and begged her to move to New York, saying he could not live with himself if his child grew up not knowing its father, promising to spend whatever he could to help, even if he had to starve. He told Claire that he didn't want to be another absentee black father, and that he didn't want his child to think he didn't care. "Please, Claire!" he yelled. "Please come back to New York! I know you love Australia, and I know you'll miss it, but please come back to New York!" As she watched Martin's agonized tears, as she saw him pleading into a cell phone, Miranda was touched by his concern. This is a truly good man, she thought. Martin hung up the phone, and Miranda walked over to hug him. As he wept on her shoulder, Miranda smiled. Because he's a good man, she thought, you've got to do whatever it takes to keep him-even if it means making your cousin his mistress.