A Dark Temptation

A Dark Temptation

 

Some temptations are too powerful to resist.

An Adventure in Interracial Cuckolding

 

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

 

 

© Copyright 2026 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.

 

A Dark Temptation

 

In the twilight hours, Blanchette’s bedroom, a sanctuary bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, became the stage for their late-night musing. The scent of her washed hair mingled with the lingering traces of his cologne. Creating an intimacy that hung heavy between them.

 

As Darcy Riley Blanchette laced up his shoes, Arwen appeared in the doorway, a towel clinging to her curves, damp copper of her mane streaming like ribbon. He witnessed her not saying a word.

 

“How about New York?” she suggested, her tone almost carefree. “Or Paris?” He smirked. It was so like her to spring things this way.

 

“Why not somewhere more exotic,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “like Iowa?” She leered back at him, sitting at her vanity, hairdryer in hand.

 

“You know I’d need something a little more exciting,” she said, pausing before adding, “But I can’t do it without you. Wouldn’t do it if you’re not there.”

 

He got up and stood behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. They locked eyes in the mirror and spoke to one another.

 

“Are you sure you want to go through with it?” Darcy asked, both of them nervous and excited.

 

“Yes, absolutely. After ten years, we deserve this.”

 

They considered distinct possibilities for their MFM encounter in the bedroom, poring over each in turn.

 

“Not New York. Everyone goes to the Big Apple. We require something more adventurous.” Humming to herself, she strolled to the closet. Mulling over options, he lay on the bed and listened to her movements, stopping at someone they trusted.

 

“Hey, you know, it might even be somebody close, like Brayton. Remember what you said about him?”

 

Her head popped out from behind a row of dresses, intrigued by the suggestion.

 

“You want it to be Brayton?” she asked.

 

“I’m game for that, but would you really be comfortable with him? He is a person you know better than I do.”

 

Darcy shrugged, “He’s more your type, anyway.” Darcey laughed, recalling Brayton’s toned physique and midnight skin.

 

“And he’s free these days…” Pausing, almost surprised. “You’ve put thought into this through.” Emerging from the closet, a gown draped over one arm, her voice intense.

 

“Might be hotter with someone you don’t know so well,” Arwen said, running a finger along the windowsill. He positioned a hand around her waist, helping her into the dress, careful not to muss her hair. “No strings,” she added while he fastened the zipper, kissing her shoulder, light and tender.

 

“That’s what makes it interesting,” Darcy said.

 

“Um, Brayton might even have fantasies of his own.”

 

“One can make book on that, darling.” Darcy’s cock rammed against his shorts, wanting attention. The thought of him fucking her had fueled so many imaginations for his masturbations over the years. A few of them, in his head, as they made love.

 

Climbing onto the bed, excited and randy, she curled up.

 

“Have you discussed this with him?” Darcy dipped his chin. “Hum, the thing is, he can just be playing us,” Arwen said. “After all, lover, Brayton has lots of experience.” Sniggering nervous, unsettled, she thought about his body and wondered if what Darcy had always told her was true.

 

Pulling her closer to him, Darcy raised his eyebrows and leaned back.

 

“That’s the point.”

 

“When we get home, we can test the waters. Send him some texts.” She gawked at the ceiling, considering it.

 

They lay together, imagining it in detail, deciding where to go. Arwen was surprised at how much she wanted it. She cuddled against him, closing her eyes.

 

“Now listen, if we’re going to use him, you best not get jealous.” It was somewhat of a tease, but also a concern to some extent.

 

Touching her cheek, he locked eyes with her. “Honest to God, it would be hard not to, with how big Brayton is,” he said.

 

With a light peck, she kissed him.

 

“If Brayton is as huge as you say, well, it’ll be perfect. Since I’ve always wondered about a massive fucking cock. And he’s black to boot.” Arwen sighed dreamily. They would have him, she decided, the ideal bull to complete the scene.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking me to dinner?”

 

“Yes, why, yes, I am. I’ll call Brayton before we go.”

 

“Fuck going out, let’s have fun instead. And you can ring up Brayton while you munch on leftover chicken.” Unzipping his pants, unbuckling his belt, she slid the slacks and boxers down, and his cock sprang straight up.

 

For a moment, her lips hovered above the helmet, mouth twitching. Snaking out her tongue, she licked the slit, engulfed him to the way to the base. Unfortunately, he lost his seed at that instant.

 

Quickly, she got him hard again, rode him to completion three times. This took ten minutes and seven seconds. Without complaining, she complimented him, cleaned up, and fixed their leftover meal.

 

****

Two Weeks Later

Denver, Colorado

 

A passerby saw the couple through the restaurant window, sitting hand in hand, contented and happy, as a waiter refilled their glasses. She moved down the street, wondering why she noticed them. When she walked past a handsome, well-built black man, she flashed him a bright smile, and he nodded to her. Perhaps, she thought, the pair is waiting for him, their bull.

 

How right she was.

 

The duo enjoyed another round of merlot and shared more appetizers, bidding time until they became a trio. By all appearances, a typical vacation. The third wheel sauntered in, casual in a graphic tee and old jeans. The old college friend, Brayton, seemed an unexpected crasher of their night out. They waved him over, as though they hadn’t planned it all along.

 

He smiled, as if flattered by the attention, and dropped into a seat.

 

“Looks like you started without me,” Brayton said, teasing her and wondering how far this might go.

 

“What’s a meal with old friends if you can’t stand them sober?” Darcy countered.

 

“And speaking of which…” Arwen motioned for another bottle.

 

They laughed, so easy, over small talk, wine, and three full plates, falling into a familiar rhythm, finishing each other’s thoughts and ordering on impulse.

 

“Haven’t seen you in months,” Darcy said.

 

“That’s what happens when you run off. I figured you guys mightn’t ever return,” Brayton said.

 

Arwen Finola Blanchette shrugged, not admitting that sometimes they felt that way, too.

 

As they paid the check, they flirted with various options for the night.

 

“So, what now?” asked Brayton, tilting his glass to swallow the last few drops. “Is this the kind of trip where we tuck in early, or will I get to see how you behave without parental supervision? Because I know you’re not too old to drink me under the table, even if you’ve been off the market for years.”

 

Brayton feigned innocence, Arwen laughed, and their faces flushed. She ran her hand over his and gazed into his eyes. They talked, flirting, Darcy listened, his cock stiffening at the possibility of what might come.

 

Before long, they decided it was a shame to waste a good buzz. Going from one pub to another. Arwen stayed close to Brayton. Always walking a little ahead, hips moving seductively under her dress. He followed her with his gaze, sometimes she stumbled.

 

“If I didn’t know better. I’d think you want to be the first one done.” Brayton looked over his shoulder at Darcy, who was lagging behind. They’d stayed out until the bars closed. Now they strolled toward Brayton’s home. He claimed their hotel was too far, and they might as well crash at his place. All night, he moved between them. Almost, but not quite, pushing Darcy out of the way.

 

But he was always to the left of Darcy, right next to Arwen. Hogging his best friend’s wife. It had been an old game that got him nowhere. Still, he’d always wanted to fuck her.

 

Lagging in the rear, Darcy allowed them some privacy. Hoping they’d go beyond flirtation.

 

Still flirting, Brayton asked whether she planned to return empty-handed or bring a little local color home with her. Perhaps because she was flustered, her cheeks pinkened in the cool night air.

 

“Silly boy, I’ll take what you give me. Um, Darcy and I’ve already discussed this, Brayton,” Arwen said. Staring into his eyes, she interlocked her arm with his.

 

“Hum, I thought maybe the two of you, wait, what?” They stopped and turned toward each other. “What are you saying? We’ve always flirted, but it never meant anything… at least not to you. And he’s my best friend, my oldest buddy.”

 

“Shush, my dear Brayton. Ole chum, you see, this isn’t pal-around time, darling. This is the undiscovered country, time. Cause your bedroom’s my next frontier. These are the voyages of Darcy, Arwen, and Brayton. Their night’s mission, to explore a strange new relationship, to seek out undeniable heat, to defy civilization’s societal norms, to fucking, boldly cum where Brayton has never shot his nuts before!”

 

Never taking her eyes from his, Arwen intertwined her fingers with his. Rubbing the back of his hand in tiny circles with her thumb. She rose on her tiptoes and planted her lips to his. Brayton took her into his arms, and their kiss turned passionate. Tongues tangled, hands roamed, he took a handful of ass and squeezed, pulling her tight to his body.

 

When Darcy caught up, he put an arm around her.

 

“Woe, girl. Not in public. Looks like you have a second lover, though,” he said, surprising her with his boldness.

 

She laughed and shook her head.

 

“True, but only two lovers?” A smile spread across her mouth. “For now.”

 

Back at Brayton’s apartment, he pulled out more wine and switched on the stereo. Picking up the conversation as if they hadn’t paused. But not moving toward what she’d said to him. Not daring to believe she was earnest. He believed it’d been a cruel joke, coldly delivered to him as the truth. He wouldn’t bite, he wouldn’t hurt Darcy. No matter how much he’d always wanted to fuck her.

 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got other dates lined up? Here I was thinking I was special.” Taking off his shoes and put his feet up on the table. He pretended to pout.

 

Darcy shook his head. “That’s the whole point,” he replied.

 

“We don’t need other dates. Not here, not tonight,” Arwen said. She dropped onto the sofa between them, acting scandalized.

 

“This isn’t your old college girlfriend talking me into a love triangle, is it?” Brayton leaned back, struggling to believe what had happened or might happen.

 

“Hell, buddy, I think you’re the one doing the chatting,” he said.