Pushing Boundaries

Explore the boundaries of pleasure and desire,

as a white couple delves into uncharted interracial territory

An Interracial Cuckold Tale

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

© Copyright 2025 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously-any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Pushing Boundaries

The bass thumbed and pressed against my ribcage. Not a metaphor, either. This joint turned sound into a solid object. Canvas of darkness, a wash of violet, some flickering white from the back of the club. Teagan’s hand clung to my shirt, pulling me through a tide of dancers, her laugh popping into my ear every time someone shoulder-checked us.

Tipsy but not wasted, she was fluid in these moments, too alive to walk but too smart to stumble. The bouncer shot me a look over his clipboard, but I shrugged and flashed a wristband. My wife handled the wrist flick with way more panache. The girl had always known how to own a room, but tonight she’d dialed herself up past eleven.

The bouncer’s eyes appreciated the view a tad more than he should’ve, but I didn’t mind. Let him look, I say. The dress probably had something to do with it.

The girl wore a black thing, one with a single stripe down her torso. As if the designer had gotten bored halfway through and left her bare down the side. A suggestion of nipples, not quite tenting up, a definite, pleasant curve of her ass.

What a lovely ass she has. Ripe and ready to be kissed.

Every guy within her radius snapped a glance her way. Only to get sideswiped by the smile she threw over her shoulder. Half predator, with a gleeful conspiratory touch. Fuck shit, my cock responded to her smile like it had a dedicated neural pathway.

Quickly, we squeezed into a nook at the bar. She leaned in, breasts on the polished wood, stretching so the bartender had no excuse to look anywhere else.

“Two mezcal negronis!” she yelled, her voice slicing through the speakers. The bartender nodded, eyes up, nowhere else to go. She spun, put her back to the bar, and gripped my hip. “Are you having fun?”

So, I answered with a kiss under her ear. My nose took in her perfume. Something I didn’t recognize, new for tonight. Her hand squeezed down, between my legs, cupping my balls through my jeans. Subtle, but not really.

“If you want to fuck me in the bathroom, I’d be cool with that.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I said.

She released and grinned.

“You always say that, but we never do.”

The crowd behind us parted, for a second, and I caught a figure propped against the bar two seats down. Tall-taller than me, for sure. Black jacket, open white shirt, skin a dark caramel shade somewhere between past sunset and black as sin.

Oddly, he was alone, a glass of whiskey in his left hand, right hand tucked in a pocket. Maybe thirty, maybe forty. His eyes ran up the length of Teag, pausing at her thighs, glancing at me. Not at my loving wife, but me.

Heat crawling up my neck, I looked away. Teagan saw the blush and turned her head. She followed my gaze.

“Oh,” she said, adding, “nice.”

The guy didn’t look away, raised his glass. The smile was slow, deliberate, more about confidence than friendliness.

Throwing a hand up in salute, I grinned back. Teagan’s nails drummed my leg. She leaned close again, so only I could hear.

“You see him?”

“Hard to miss,” I said.

“I like how he’s looking at us,” she said.

Letting my eyes rest on his chiseled face, I peered back over her shoulder. Fucking sculpted. Even his stubble looked engineered. He hadn’t brought a friend, hadn’t checked his phone. Some kind of self-contained unit. Teag straightened and angled herself so her best side was in his line of sight.

Undressing her with his eyes, he tracked every inch of her body.

The bartender plopped our drinks down and lingered a second. Sliding one glass toward me, Teagan winked and palmed a tip into his hand.

“Cheers, baby.” The glasses clinked together.

We drank. I wiped the edge of my mouth, only to see the stranger coming closer. He moved like a basketball player, all economy, no wasted motion. Stopped right beside Teag, only inches away, and nodded.

“Didn’t mean to stare. But that dress is hypnotic.” And his voice hit lower than the bass guitar playing in the background.

By the time he finished his compliment, Teagan’s lip quivered.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Love it. You’ve got the confidence for it. Most people don’t.”

Then he looked at me, searching for challenge, or maybe permission. I tilted my head. “You come here a lot?” I said, channeling the cheesiest thing I could muster.

“First time. Decided to check it out. Glad I did.” He laughed.

In the heat of the moment, Teagan held out her hand. Introducing herself like a CEO. “Teag, and this is Liam.”

Staring at her for a second, he took her hand, but didn’t overplay it.

An almost smile played on his lips, and he said, “Marcus. So nice to meet you.”

Quivering like a teen, she didn’t let go right away. Neither did Marcus. It didn’t go unnoticed. Gripping the edge of the table, I sipped my drink.

“Where’s your date, Marcus?”

Nonchalantly, he shrugged.

“Don’t need one. Nights like this, you let the city decide what you do or don’t get.”

I liked the answer. Teagan liked it more.

“You’ve got the look of a man who doesn’t leave alone.” Closing the gap, she pressed in. Her hip grazed his leg.

And he winked and nodded. Glancing at me, suddenly I felt like a wild hare in the sights of a hunter. As quickly as possible, his eyes went to her again.

“Not often, because I like company. Not desperate for it. That’s the trick.”

Hope in me was a fragile thread, and Teagan shot me a look-should we? Indicating ‘Why not,’ I bobbed. She liked when I let her drive, and I loved when she surprised me.

“You wanna join us for a round?” I said.

“Sure,” Marcus said, smooth. With a twitch of his glass, he signaled the bartender, and somehow, magically, another whiskey appeared, plus a round for us. The staff either owed him money or wanted to see what would happen.

The conversation spun from there. Teag and Marcus traded stories about horrible bosses and favorite vacation spots. He’d come back from Mexico; she topped him with her India story. They one-upped each other for twenty minutes, not in a mean way, but in play.

Ever so often, Marcus would throw a question my way. What did I do? What was my most embarrassing moment, had I ever done anything truly reckless? I played along, but I watched him, watched the way he steered the ship. Each time, he made sure Teagan was at the center.

But there was a crawling sense in my gut that he had some interest in me. Having known other men like him, black men like him, they weren’t into doing the suck or taking the fucking. No, if he had any inclinations toward me, I’d be taking down my throat or up my ass. And that was fine with me.

His hands stayed in his pockets or wrapped around his drink. Never touched her, never crossed the line. But Teagan did, a tap on his bicep, a friendly bump of her knee against his. As the minutes stretched, her laugh got louder, her gestures more animated. Instinctively, my arm fell around her, possessive, but not in a fuck-off-she’s-mine way. More in a, yeah, this is us, and we’re letting you in for a while.

And when I locked eyes with Marcus, I had that please play with me too kind of gaze.

The club kept filling. The music got wilder. Bodies pressed closer. The air thickened with sweat and perfume. Eventually, the air itself turned moist, like someone had pumped pheromones into the ductwork.

Teag’s hand found my thigh, fingers digging in.

“Bathroom?” she said. “We’ll be right back,” she said, and Marcus nodded.

I nodded, and she pulled me through the crowd, weaving around the human obstacles. We got inside, locked the door, and immediately, her tongue was in my mouth, her hands grabbing my belt, yanking me against the cold tile wall.

At that point, I spun her around. Lifting her so her ass balanced on the sink, and slid my hand up her thigh. She was already soaked. I worked my finger in, only one, and she moaned into my ear, muffled but raw. I unzipped, lined myself up, but she stopped me.

“Save it for later. We’re not done.” Her voice soft and conspiratorial.

She applied her lipstick, turned to me, and zipped up my fly. Then we returned to the bar. Marcus stood exactly where we left him, drink untouched, scanning the crowd.

He saw us. When his eyes dropped to my crotch-fuck, was my fly undone?-and he grinned. I checked: all good, but the hard-on made it obvious. Marcus raised his glass.

“Welcome back,” he said.

I threw an arm around Teagan. “She’s insatiable,” I said, half-joking, but not really.

Marcus laughed.

“You’re lucky, man.” He looked at Teagan. “You’re fortunate, too.”

Teag sipped her drink, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, we both are.”

We settled into a kind of rhythm, three people but one current. I noticed how other women glanced at Marcus, squinted at Teagan, and me, trying to figure out what game we were playing. Was this a throuple? A triangle? Something else entirely? No one could tell, and that made it even better. There’s a kind of power in being unreadable.

At some point, Marcus leaned in, voice low.

“You two ever bring someone home?” he said.

Teagan smiled. “Actually, no, we haven’t. But we’ve talked about it.”

He nodded; he’d heard this before. “It’s fun,” he said. “Takes the right vibe, though. If you force it, it gets weird.”

Somewhere out in the room, laughter broke the tension like glass shattering, and I raised my eyebrow.

“You speak from experience?”

“A few times,” he said. “Only good ones, though.”

Power shifted, Teag glanced at me, back at him. “You think this is the right vibe?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he said.

What was coming next was inevitable, and my pulse did a little double-time thrub-a-dub. I wasn’t sure what I needed, only that I yearned for it to keep happening. Grounding me, Teagan laced her fingers with mine, but her eyes stayed on Marcus.

We closed the bar. The lights came up, brutal and unflattering, but Marcus didn’t miss a beat; he rose as if to leave us. Teagan whispered in my ear-“Don’t let him leave without us.”

“Wait for us.” And I flagged down the bartender for the check. We shuffled outside, the three of us huddled in the neon stink of the street. Marcus looked up at the sky, exhaled, and smiled.

Teagan looped her arm around mine. “We’ve got a hot tub,” she said, bold as anything. “You want to come over for a nightcap?”