Growing up, I had always been told that we should help black refugees. As a girl, I was shown pictures and videos of the horrid conditions, and that there were ways we could help them. Most were simply pleas for money, along with testimonials from white married couples, smiling as they handed over what looked like their life’s savings in order to help these refugees.
Everybody was happy and smiling in these images, with white girls hugging black refugees of all nations, and all religions. Christian women were shown at the forefront of this ‘righteous crusade’ to help these black refugees, at any cost. Some pictures even showed a white Christian woman kissing the cheek of a refugee, the man smiling in his filthy appearance, receiving the caring kiss of the pretty, assuredly sweet-smelling and clean white woman, and more-so shown, her wedding ring.
To an impressionable young girl in grade school, this was moving and deeply embedded in the mind of a sweet, innocent red-headed white girl, and as time went on, we started trying to help. I would help at fundraisers, homeless shelters (though I hated all of that dish-washing, all they would let little 12-year-old me do), and if we were lucky enough to have a young refugee boy in my class, I would dote on him. I wanted to help him, because that was what good Christian girls did, regardless of how old they were. I wanted to do my part.
My parents were at once pleased and a bit dismayed at my efforts. They would support refugee centers, my mom being a well-endowed red-head as I would grow up to be, smiling and serving the refugees food, or bringing in a part of my daddy’s well-earned salary. All to help the “poor and unfortunate” black refugees. When I asked about being able to do more, including hug them, and even kiss them, my father near exploded at me. Helping them was one thing, but being physically loving and kind to them was an unbelievably bad idea, and would not be tolerated. These were things I had seen my mother doing, on occasion. But my father’s resistance I just chalked up to adults being, well, adults. I would later come to find that while they wanted to help the less-fortunate, or those stuck in dire circumstances, like any good Christian couple, the thought of his having a mixed-race ****** was beyond appalling to my father. To my indoctrinated mind, this seemed hypocritical, but I held my tongue. I did notice that while I was being disciplined by my father, my mother was noticeably silent, even averting her gaze from me.
So when I started high school, my rebellious-phase started. Most kids were drinking or smoking, or doing drugs. Sure, I had my own attempts, mainly at drinking, since I couldn’t stand smoking, and the one time I tried drugs, I didn’t like the loss of whatever of the world I had because of whatever it was I was high on. There still remains a blank space in my life for that night. I have no idea what happened to me, or how I wound up back at home. I did have the sense to check my body, and other than some small bruising and nibble marks, I was still pure, and my maidenhood was still intact.
But my rebellion focused on black refugees. I started small, by worming my way onto the serving lines at the shelters, or refugee camps as I had learned they were called, and moved up to moving out among them, picking up after they finished eating, and then making deliveries inside the different areas of the camp. The only requirement, and it was absolute, was that I had to be out of there one hour before sunset. I was still a minor, and so it was ’to keep me safe’.
Oddly, though, when I would go with my mother, she had no such restrictions. Every once in a while, she would stay after the relief center was ‘closed’, and I was required to sit in the car for an hour or more. So I did as I was told, for though I could be pissed at my father, I never wanted to cross my mother. That was when shit would get serious. So I waited in the car, and when mom came out, she just looked, well, different. Very relaxed, even happy. She also looked like shit. Mom had always prided herself on her appearance, and I was raised to do the same. Yet when she came out, her hair was mussed, makeup almost destroyed, and a lot of times, her outfit was smudged, or dirty. I just thought that the kitchen must’ve been really dirty or something, and she helped clean it. Why I had to remain in the car was beyond me, but like any teenager, I simply shrugged. Whatever. All I knew was that I was soon holding a driver’s license and was allowed to take the car and do whatever and come back when mom called me.
In order to help these refugees better assimilate into our society, the camp started a work-program. Mostly menial stuff, the women doing cleaning in people’s homes, men doing road maintenance and the like. It was my mom who came up with the idea of having them do yard work and gardening. It would be a skill they could use to start their own business and support their families. Management evidently liked the idea, and once or twice a week, I was left at the camp to help serve and she took two or three of the men to our house. She would return with them at the end of the day, and we would do some form of a ‘prisoner exchange’. The refugee men were released back to camp, and I was taken home. I never noticed it at the time, but my mom often wore different clothes when she came to pick me up, and looked freshly showered and perfect.
This was also about when I had my first kiss. For some reason, some refugee families never left the camp, so I would get to know some of them pretty well. One boy I got to know well was named Ade. Ade was a boy I really felt sorry for. He was literally skin and bones, and it seemed he was always starving. Whenever I could, I would sneak him some extra portions or even just give him my meal. We would sit there and try to talk, and it made us both laugh. It started as pantomime, and then as time went on, I would work on teaching him English. He tried teaching me some of his native Ethiopian language, but frankly, I struggled with English and so we would go into this sort of English-pantomime speak that enabled to get most of our thoughts across.
One day, as I was nearly 18, I was sneaking him some extra food, and as he ate we sat and chatted. My mom saw us, from a ways off, and she smiled to me, winked and blew me a kiss. It was something she did, just to let me know she loved me. Ade looked at me with a very quizzical expression, and I tried to pantomime with him what it meant, but he was clueless. So finally, in frustration, I squared up to him, and wrapped my arms about his neck and gently offered my smiling lips to his. It was the wrong concept, but how do you express a kiss? He got that message, and my first kiss was tentative, but nice. Soon thereafter, whenever my mom blew me a kiss, I would find myself in a lip-lock with Ade if he was nearby.
During all of this time, I was growing up, and turning into what my *** would call ‘Jail Bait”. I had the looks my mother’s genes blessed me with. Nice, long, auburn hair, a healthy set of D-cupped breasts, and an hourglass figure. I overheard my *** and the neighbor talking about me once, and the neighbor mentioned that my ass looked very fuckable. My only problem was that I was short. My mom was five-foot eight and I was a mere five-four. I stopped growing taller in Jr. High school, and began to grow into form at 15. By my 18th birthday, I had it going on!
There were times when my mom was in a playful mood and she would take me shopping with her, and we would wind up with matching outfits. Often it was short-shorts and a crop-top of some sort, and a few short dresses, including some wickedly flared miniskirts. It became a sort of joke between us, to wear matching outfits every day, and I always took my mom’s lead, wearing the same or similar outfit she wore, only with heels to make me taller.
I was also now allowed to have free-range of the camp. A lot of times, mom and I would wear matching outfits, in a show of ****** unity and support or something, only I had to wear heels, because I was so damn short. I was also learning more about being a woman, and how a smile, or a tender caress could make someone feel, and as I would make my way through the camp, mostly wearing heels to match the booty shorts or miniskirts my mom got me. I could feel the men’s staring and smiling, and they would touch me as I passed them. Most of the time it was just a brush against my leg, or some were brazen enough to caress my butt. I would laugh it off, and wave a single finger at them, gesturing no, and still giving them a smile. I still had to let them know they were welcome in the camp, and our country!
Of course, when I would find Ade, we would chat some more, in our own sort of ‘language’, and spend as much time with him as I could. We would talk, and we were kissing a lot more now, most of the time his initiating it, but I didn’t feel it right to refuse him. It would be small kisses at first, and then his tongue would lead the charge, and pry my lips open, and he began to explore my mouth. Our tongues would wrestle, sometimes like thumb-wrestling, and he would defeat me, pinning my tongue under his as I mewed, sighing softly as I felt almost limp in his grasp. He would lick my tongue, under it, around my gums, exploring my mouth to his heart’s content, my blue eyes fluttered closed as he then would begin to feel me.
After the kiss would break, I would become more aware of his hands, and they were often sliding smoothly over me, and I would admire the darkness of his skin over my pale-white flesh, and sometimes, if I wore a too-short or too flared skirt, I felt him slide up to the tops of my thighs, where common sense would remind me that I had to stay a virgin until I got married. I would playfully slap his hands, and he would playfully retreat, only to repeat the cycle. We would play like this for weeks, and his hands would grow more and more bold, rubbing over more and more of me, and I would feel his dark hand on my panties, or my bare butt if I was wearing a thong. Trust was that I was looking more and more forward to my time with him.
I began to wonder about my mom, too. She would disappear, and when it was supposed to be time to go home, I couldn’t find her. The car was still in the parking lot, along with a few others who would ‘pull the night shift’, but she was nowhere to be seen. She had blown me a kiss when we saw each other, but that had been maybe 90 minutes before, and so I went roaming looking for her. Instead, I found Ade, and one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I wasn’t looking for her anymore. I was too busy being lost in Ade’s arms. We were making out, in a part of the camp that I was not super-familiar with. I had only been there maybe three or four times over the years, being warned when I was younger that it was dangerous for me. But I was 18 now, and I felt more mature, and somehow better able to defend myself, if somebody got to be a problem.
But as Ade and I necked, we grew more passionate, and soon I was giving him free-reign over my body. I was wearing an over-size crop-top and booty shorts, with my red-satin thong’s whale-tail displayed over the beltline. I felt Ade reach over me, around me and he began to molest my breasts. My own fingers began to feel him, and though the camp was large, it wasn’t equally funded, so even though Ade’s clothing was clean, it was still ragged and barely held together. I found my fingers clutching a cock, for the very first time, and squeezing it as Ade’s fingers began to tease my nipples. The pleasure was a new height for me, and I could not stop fondling him, or his fondling me.
My fingers began to slide along his hard shaft, and though I had never held one before, he was at least 8 inches long, and I could feel his heartbeat as it thudded through his throbbing black cock. I was laying atop him, on my back, looking over my shoulder to kiss him, when I felt him begin to undo my shorts, my voice purring into his mouth as my hips sorta’ took on a mind of their own. I was slowly gyrating, and writhing under his touch as all of these new, amazing sensations were invading my body as his fingers began to invade me, the small button popping loose as Ade released it, and his hand slithered into my shorts, and under my thong. I felt a stranger touch my vulva for the first time and it blew my mind, my back arching as his fingertips began to circle my love-button. I cried out softly as I shook from the very first male-led orgasm, and had begun to seriously consider giving Ade my virginity. Legs wide, and held open by his, Ade had managed to start sliding my shorts down, and my top was exposing my boobs, baring me nearly completely. Ade was just a few short inches from lowering my shorts and panties down over my hips when everything came to a shrieking stop!
“Suzi!” I immediately registered the angry voice as my mom’s. “What are you doing? Get. Out. Of. Here!”
Some instincts are borne of biology, some are instilled by memory, and my mom rarely yelled at me, she didn’t have to. When she did, however, it was time to get it in gear! This was one of those times when I was on my feet and on the move in a flash, leaving a no-doubt surprised and sexually frustrated Ade sitting there with a wolfish look on his face, his hard cock sticking up through a fold in his pants. My last look over my shoulder at him was his smile and cock, and I realized they were something I had wanted, so badly, and had been so ready to give.
When my mom finally calmed down enough to speak clearly, and escort me bodily by the arm out of the camp, I finally had a good chance to look at her. She looked a mess, to be sure!
“Mom! Okay, Okay... I get it. Ade and me kinda’ got out of hand. I’m sorry! But… what the heck happened to you? You look like crap!” One never cussed around my mom. It was bad for the skin, when she slapped me for talking back.
She did look like a wreck, too. Her makeup was way worse than mine, and her own top had a tear down the middle, which she had used the loose ends to tie-together, and her shorts had mud and dirt all over them. Her hair was just destroyed, and she had to use her fingers as we stood there, trying to regain some semblance of appearance.
“Alright. I suppose it is time to tell you. But we’re gonna’ make a deal. I’ll tell you what has been going on, and you don’t tell your father about me, and I won’t tell your father about you and that man, ya’hear me?” She waited for me to digest this and respond.
“Alright... Deal…” I answered evenly. I had been given the time to calm down, and I think my mom had, too, mostly. “So what’s going on?”
“Well…” my mom began. “You know how important it is to our ****** to help the black immigrants who come to our community, and try and get a better life?”
I simply nodded, leaning back on the hood of her Mercedes.
“Well, awhile back, we started getting a lot more men than women coming in, and those few women we did get tended to get placed with a ******, or if their whole ****** was there, they would all be given a fresh start outside the camp. With me so far?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. More guys than girls. So what?” I responded.
“Well honey, and you will learn this, but when men can’t get rid of certain biological urges, they will fight, or even riot. So to keep things, well, calmer, me and some of the other wives stay after to help them with those urges. So when it can be arranged, I would give these men some relief.”
I was put back a little. “Relief? Relief from what? We already give them food, and the best shelter we can find, and they get clean clothes. What else do they need?”
My mom looked at me for a moment, and finally spoke.
“Oh, Honey, you are so innocent. I suppose that is my fault. Remember who your father and I told you about the birds and the bees? And how you had to take Sex Ed every year in high school? It’s those urges I am helping them with. I let them get rid of their reproductive urges with me.”
My hand went to my gaping mouth. “Mom! You actually fuck one?” I was astonished that my prim and proper mother, who was a pinnacle in the local society was out there having sex without my ***!
“Actually, honey, it is usually more than one. Sometimes two or three at a time.” She looked at me. “And sometimes it can go on for hours.”
I was just at a loss. The conflict in me was pretty big. Sex outside marriage was absolutely forbidden by my parents, and yet here was my mom doing that very same thing! I mean, she was helping black refugees, and that was very important. But what if daddy found out?
“And before you get all uppity about it, you should know that there are probably 10 moms of your friends who also are doing it.” She then grunted. “And from what I can tell, some of your friends.”
I was just stunned! Amber? Bree? Wendy? Their moms, too?
Then I had to stop and think about it. Ade. That man had made me feel amazing things. I realized I wanted to go all the way with him, and give him my virginity. It felt right. It was feeling right to give a black man my virginity. I was starting to warm to the idea.
“So daddy doesn’t know?”
Mom shook her head. “No. Nor does he need to. Truth his honey, your father is actually kind of crappy in bed. He’s got a hair trigger and he’s not very big. Sometimes I can’t even tell when he is inside me, he is that small. The fact I got pregnant with you was a bit of a surprise, to be completely honest. A welcome surprise, mind you, but a surprise, nonetheless. Now, these men get their relief, and you know what? So do I. I mate with these men, willingly, because I feel it is my place to mate with them. It is my duty. I have better sex with them here, and if they are gardening at our house, we do it there, too! These men give me far better sex than your father ever has, or even can. I do it to help these refugees who not only need, but deserve, to have sex with us. And we deserve great sex with black men, who are just plain better lovers. They deserve to make black babies in our white bodies, and if I am being totally honest with you, had I the chance when you were a baby, you might have black brothers or sisters.”
Mom was laying a lot on my plate, as it were, and so now it was my turn to think. Then I asked more important to me question.
“So what about me and Ade? I realize now that there was no way I could have stopped him, and I really didn’t want to. I wanted to let him try and make a baby with me. I wanted, hell, I still want, to have a black baby! As you said, they deserve it… To help them thrive in this country!”
That pulled my mom up short. Looking about, and twisting her lips in thought, the same way I tend to, showed her thinking.
“You’re right. I should not have interrupted. That was wrong of me. But I didn’t know how you feel, and now that I know, I won’t stop you. But at the same point, it also means I can’t help you. I can tell you from experience that Ade won’t be your only, and probably not your last. I will have to let you learn this one the hard way. Once you are with him, word will get around. Then you will be quite popular, indeed. You’re young, pretty and available, now. That is what happened to me. I felt bad for one young man and thought I would help him. A just one time thing. But now it is nearly every day, and none of them use protection. I have sex probably 6 to 8 times a day, and sometimes with multiple partners at once. Likely it will be that way for you. And once you get pregnant, it will be up to you to tell your father.”
And that was the end of the matter.
The next day, I went looking for Ade. I took care of the others as best I could, but Ade was forefront in my mind. I wanted to give myself to him so badly, that I even was so daring to wear a crop top and miniskirt, and left my panties, not in the car, but at home. I didn’t want him to have any doubts about what I wanted, which was his cock taking my cherry and making me his woman. I made my rounds, delivering packages, serving meals, and just overall checking on the poor refugees. We had just gotten two new busses of them, and they looked just shocked and overwhelmed at what had happened to them. Word came they had been in a camp local to their homes, but their civil war had spread into a wildfire and it was only buy luck that they were evacuated before their own assistance center was destroyed, this time by government forces. They had been evacuated from their own country by air, landing here just hours ago. So I pitched in and helped by giving them food, and then after they washed, issuing them new, clean clothes to wear. Then I would assign them areas of the camp to settle in while we took care of everyone else, too. By now, we had several hundred refugees, most of them men, all of them older, and all of them looking malnourished. I felt true pity for them, and gave my warmest smiles and tenderest touches, eager to care and try to ease their haunted minds of the ravages they had seen.
But in the back of my mind, I kept looking for Ade. I even went to the secluded spot we had last been at, interrupted by my mother. It was occupied, but not by Ade. I could hear them before I saw them, and noticed a pair of white arms and legs sandwiched between two sets of dark-skinned male arms and legs. With all of the wriggling they were doing, it took me a second to comprehend that one of the aid workers was sexually servicing these brave men. Later, I found out it was our neighbor, Mrs. Williams, and from what I overheard, what had been intended to be her helping relax a single man had gotten out of control, and by the time it was over, she had lost count of how many men, but from my observation, it had to be at least eight who were watching the whole thing. In fact, I nearly became sexually active within that same group, as I didn’t realize that a hand had slithered up my leg and under my skirt, until fingertips began to probe along my labia. I had prepared myself for the eventuality, even looked forward to it, but I wanted Ade to be my first. With the softest resistance I could manage, smiling to the face attached to the arm, I shook my head and managed to use a sweet voice, saying “Later, later.” And made my escape to the main area and kitchen. I had to take a break and managed a few bites to eat, calming myself down.
“Suzi…” a calm voice called to me.
Looking up, I saw the camp director, a nice, older white man who was named Mr. Brown, coming towards me, his face bearing that same somber look he always had. He could have won the lottery, and doubt his expression would change.
“Suzi… I heard you have been looking for a couple of particular refugees?”
I rose to my heels, smoothing my skirt as I took a proper posture before the older man. “Yessir? What can I do for you?”
“I’ve heard you have been looking for your friend, what’s his name? Aidey?”
“Ade, Sir…” I corrected him. “And yessir, I have been trying to find him all day.”
“Then I have some mixed news for you, dear. I hope it will bring you feel good to know that last night we were able to place him with another couple of men in a new dormitory, sponsored by a ******, and they all now have real jobs, working for the ****** business. They left early this morning, before you arrived, and by now are settling in a few hundred miles from here. They will be given better care than we can here, and a better chance at successful lives from now on. They are off to a great start!” His face almost cracked a smile as he ended, no doubt feeling better about having landed several refugees some place where they will prosper.
For me, I had to struggle to smile, and hide my tears. My Ade was gone, and now I was lost in my heart. Ade had been my friend, and was destined to be more than that. He was going to be my lover. I had real feelings for him, and had even considered asking if we could sponsor him, which would have to be a major exception to my father’s edict. Help them all we can, but there had to be a limit somewhere. Sponsoring, and taking one in was that limit. It was a limit that I was beginning to despise, and within, grow angry at my daddy. He was so hypocritical. He expounded the benefits of helping the less-fortunate, and donated quite a bit to help, and the two women in his life were also dedicated to giving them relief from their despair. If he only knew his own wife was committed fully to them, giving her body as well as her efforts, to these men, and soon, his own ******** would be doing the same.
After getting the news, I was both heartbroken and hurt, and upset, and frustrated. Wandering around the camp, I had no plan, now, no way to live this exquisite experience the way my fairytale mind had built up. My first was to be with a man who I was in love with, and perhaps I would marry, and have his children. I had gone so far as to prepare myself for it, and him. I was dressing more provocatively, to make myself more appealing to my would-be lover, to surrender myself to a cause I felt was most worthy. Loving a black man and being a good, decent, loyal wife to him in all ways. It was a mix of 1950’s Americana and modern-era social relief. I had envisioned a warm, soft bed, loving eyes and all of the sensations making passionate love would deliver, for the both of us. Loving parents showering us with smiles as they doted on their grandchildren, and all the rest of the things I would have seen on television.
I had gotten so lost in my thoughts that I had lost track of the time, where I was, or who I was near. I had been feeling hands as they touched me, which had been happening so often I barely gave it a thought anymore. It had started when I began wearing miniskirts and shorts, and only when someone touched me more intimately did I notice. This time, hands had been reaching up my legs past my knees, and when I turned sharply, allowing the hem of my skirt to flare, I was looking down to find two men grinning as they looked up. Not making eye contact with me, but looking up my skirt to see my charms. I started to reach down, to usher their hands off of me, when other hands reached me from behind, under my skirt, and grope my butt. When I tried to rise, still other hands reached and grabbed my arms. My last look around told me I was in that same area where we had just received the new groups of men, and I was the only white person around.
I was both pushed and pulled, and I felt hands all over me now, my soft voice squealing before a hand covered my red-painted lips. I squirmed and tried to scream, only helplessly, as so many hands managed to roll me over and pull my arms and ankles apart. Laying on the thin plastic mattress we issued each new refugee, hands slithered up my legs and under my skirt, groping me and pulling at my skirt, until some smarter individual simply lifted it up, and exposed my trimmed vulva to them all. Buttons popped as my blouse was yanked open, and my bra-less chest was exposed, my D-cupped bosom sporting hardening nipples as dark lips found them and began to suckle my flesh.
The burning sensation was new to me, and at once it hurt but also was heating me up, and as I wriggled, other hands were still feeling me up, groping my crotch until finally a finger entered me. It didn’t push hard, but stopped short, and excited chatter then began amongst the men. Then there was some pushing and shoving amongst them, and I belatedly realized I they had discovered I was a virgin. That fracas soon became ignored, when a man’s face mashed to mine and his tongue shot into my mouth as thick lips covered my gasping lips. I found myself returning the kiss, out of habit and instinct, as kissing a black man was no strange thing to me after neck and petting with Ade. His tongue delved into my mouth, licking my inner cheeks and tongue, invading my mouth and making me taste him as he tasted me It also made me stop thrashing about, and as I relaxed, so did the grip on my wrists and ankles. They still held me open, but I didn’t fight nearly as hard. Hands were now groping my breasts, and lips were sucking my tender flesh, when my legs were lifted up, bending me until the kissing had broken.
I was just able to look down as a man had positioned himself over me, his now nude ebony body poised with his cock at my labia. He said something to me, in a sneer I didn’t understand, and he then began to lower his hot, throbbing black cock against my pink folds, using the head to slide up and down, until my petals opened, and he began to tease my inner flesh. The pleasure was a new sensation, and fun was the only term I could come up with, when I felt the head of his thick mushroom engage with my hole. I looked up to him, seeing hands still holding my ankles high and wide, along with my wrists, this look of lewdness and lust on his face as he began to push. It gave me a pain so deep I couldn’t help but writhe and try and shake him off. He took a short thrust, sharp and to the point, until he began to invade my body, and in another thrust, I felt the beginnings of pain. He took time in between, I think to better relish deflowering a white girl, until that third thrust and my hymen ruptured. I cried out in pain, wriggling under him, yet unable to deny him as he turned me from a fair maiden into a woman.
He continued to trust more, and he lowered his body onto mine, eyes locked on mine as my lips were parted, gasping for air as my chest rose and fell in shaky, nervous breaths. Each thrust drove him deeper into me, until my valley had been fully invaded. Then he lay atop me, kissing me as he gave tiny little thrusts, to remind me of my place, and to keep him excited, I guess. Then I felt my body sort of relax, and he began to pull back, and then re-insert himself into me, his hips beginning the initial cycles of mating, and now suddenly sending new and very enjoyable sensations through my body. Sex, I was discovering, felt better than great, whatever that word was! I began mewling as he thrust into me, his pace and intensity varying, until he began to push harder into me, my clit aroused as his public bone smacked it repeatedly. My voice went from mewing to moaning to sharp, passionate cries of pleasure, as I felt new sensations, my hips rocking up to meet his cock as it plundered my body, and every thrust brought me to new and greater heights of thrill and pleasure. No wonder why my mom was having sex with so many men. Sex was just awesome!
I felt my body begin to tremble as I felt this odd tingling in my depths, and as my newfound lover thrust, the intensity of pleasure and tingling grew. Son he was hammering away, and I was vibrating along with him, until I felt it happening, this odd, frenzied flexing of my muscles, matching his own frenetic thrusting, until he smashed his cock into me, and I screamed in pleasure. I shuddered violently, and the hands holding me lost their grip. He bellowed as well, and I could sorta’ feel his cock as it pulsed at my labia. I had been given my first real orgasm, and as I lay under him, he had experienced his, and was filling my pulsing love tunnel with his semen. My pussy was massaging his cock, my body eager to get every drop of his black seed to fertilize my white valley. Our bodies were working as nature intended best. Reproducing to make a black baby.
He lay on me for what felt like an eternity, kissing me as I kissed him back, and I broke into this stupid smile, I didn’t know how to speak his language, nor did he know how to speak mine. But I had to let him know it was okay, and that he had not only taken my virginity, I was now okay with it. Somewhere in there, my arms and legs had gone limp, and he lay his legs between mine, still giving me tiny thrusts to empty his balls into me. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew from sex education that my cervix was flexing, scooping his black essence into my womb, his semen swimming upstream to find a floating egg and impregnate me. Maybe ten minutes had elapsed after we shared an orgasm, before he rose.
I started to rise behind him, and other hands jumped in and pushed me back down. Holding me as before, another man took his place above me, and though the pain was next to nothing, I felt some discomfort, at first. By the end of the night, somewhere between six and eight men would have sex with me, all of them cumming in me, while I had a few more orgasms. By the time I was able to get up, and make my way to the car, my mom was there, waiting. She looked just as bad as I felt, and she smiled to me.
“Welcome to the world of being a slut, honey.” She greeted me. “Are you okay?”
She reached out and gave me a hug. I nodded to her with my head into her shoulder. Holding tightly, I spoke softly, with a sad tone in my voice.
“Ade’s gone, mom. He left this morning.” I started to sob.
My mom held me back upright and she nodded to me. “I heard, and I am so so sorry. I know he was very special to you. But you know what? There will be other boys. Whether it is from school, or even here. You will find that right man for you to marry.”
She held me more and let me sob out my feelings. Then she pulled m3e back.
“Tell me. Are you feeling okay?”
“You mean other than I don’t know how many men have fucked me tonight?”
That made my mom blanch.
“Uhh... there was more than one? That is unexpected. I figured you would be with just one guy, and then come out. No wonder you were so long.”
I nodded to her. “They all ejaculated in me, too. All of them. It was in my pussy, and there seems to be a lot of it. I can feel it leaking down my leg as I stand here.”
My mom took a closer look at me, and she nodded. “Yeah, you are sitting on a towel for the trip home. And tomorrow, you are going to the doctor for birth control.”
-----------------------------------------
It was now six months since I had last seen Ade. Since I had lost my virginity, and it wound up taking a week to get in to see the doctor, but by then I had been with perhaps thirty men. Some were repeat lovers from that first night. But so many more were so very eager to put their deposits in the pretty white redhead with the big chest. I had become more adept in my sexual knowledge, learning how to use different positions, how to give blow-jobs, and even learning how to deep throat. Anal sex was still a bitch, and I hated it, but the few times it happened, I wasn’t given much choice. There were simply more men that needed release than my pussy could handle. My mom did her part as well, but there were far more men than women.
Worse was the news my father received. I put off telling him as long as I could, but since that first week had been so busy with bareback sex, the prescription had been made pointless. I was given a routine pregnancy test, and it turned up positive. I was now carrying a black refugee’s baby. I didn’t tell him until I couldn’t hide it any longer, my belly was beginning to show. Of course, he lost his mind and he threatened to kick me out, disown me and the other vile threats a father would do to a child who had so badly erred in judgement. But it was my mom who stepped in and reminded him of his desires for duty and so on. This had turned into a royal, and epic argument between them. That was when my mother dropped the bomb on him. She would leave him if he tossed me out. She told him that black men were deserving us white girls, and he had to deal with it.
When he pressed her on that, she admitted how and why she knew so much about black men. It nearly broke him, but it also opened up a new era in their marriage and lives. He was at first forced, and then later came to accept, his role in life as a cuckold. Black men began coming over daily, and fucking my mom, and myself, often while my daddy would watch, or at least hear us. When mom caught him stroking off to it, she made him agree to wear a chastity cage, and make it official. He was now going to be a cuckold to a ****** where all of the women were now devoted to black cock and black men. He never had sex again.
My mom ran into a man whom she formed a more regular visitation with. Only for a change, he spoke English quite well. He had been a politician in his native land, but had to flee when a military coup had been staged. He was used to power and influence, and so he began to exert it on my mother. She soon became enamored with him, and willingly became devoted to his every whim. She not only became his girl, but also his black cock slut, devoted to all things black. She got a Queen of Spades tattoo above her vagina, and was soon off birth control. She also got a new necklace. One that announced her submission to the man. She became his sex slave. Three months later, she was given a black baby.
Like mine, she had no idea who the father was. She only knew that she would be having unprotected sex with as many black men as she could. I did too, only after I had my first black baby, a boy, I was soon knocked up with another. My first-born was named Ade, and the others would be named after men who had enjoyed me, if I knew their names. I would go on to have three black children, before becoming the wife of my mom’s Bull. Like my mom, I would soon have a tattoo, only mine said “Black Bred” above my vulva. My father gave me away at the ceremony, and I had three more black children in the coming years, starting with having sex during the wedding reception at my new husband’s direction. I suppose he might have been jealous, but he was fucking my mother at the same time. That was the era of when mom and I were truly black cock sluts.
My father? Well, he had little choice, caged as he was, so he put his energies to good use, and formed a foundation to further enhance black men and interracial families. Within a year, the foundation was well-funded and had white girls rostered by the hundreds, starting with Amber, Bree, Wendy, and their moms, as well as myself and my mom. We called ourselves the Blacked Wives Club. The only requirement to join? Unprotected sex with black men, and only black men.
Everybody was happy and smiling in these images, with white girls hugging black refugees of all nations, and all religions. Christian women were shown at the forefront of this ‘righteous crusade’ to help these black refugees, at any cost. Some pictures even showed a white Christian woman kissing the cheek of a refugee, the man smiling in his filthy appearance, receiving the caring kiss of the pretty, assuredly sweet-smelling and clean white woman, and more-so shown, her wedding ring.
To an impressionable young girl in grade school, this was moving and deeply embedded in the mind of a sweet, innocent red-headed white girl, and as time went on, we started trying to help. I would help at fundraisers, homeless shelters (though I hated all of that dish-washing, all they would let little 12-year-old me do), and if we were lucky enough to have a young refugee boy in my class, I would dote on him. I wanted to help him, because that was what good Christian girls did, regardless of how old they were. I wanted to do my part.
My parents were at once pleased and a bit dismayed at my efforts. They would support refugee centers, my mom being a well-endowed red-head as I would grow up to be, smiling and serving the refugees food, or bringing in a part of my daddy’s well-earned salary. All to help the “poor and unfortunate” black refugees. When I asked about being able to do more, including hug them, and even kiss them, my father near exploded at me. Helping them was one thing, but being physically loving and kind to them was an unbelievably bad idea, and would not be tolerated. These were things I had seen my mother doing, on occasion. But my father’s resistance I just chalked up to adults being, well, adults. I would later come to find that while they wanted to help the less-fortunate, or those stuck in dire circumstances, like any good Christian couple, the thought of his having a mixed-race ****** was beyond appalling to my father. To my indoctrinated mind, this seemed hypocritical, but I held my tongue. I did notice that while I was being disciplined by my father, my mother was noticeably silent, even averting her gaze from me.
So when I started high school, my rebellious-phase started. Most kids were drinking or smoking, or doing drugs. Sure, I had my own attempts, mainly at drinking, since I couldn’t stand smoking, and the one time I tried drugs, I didn’t like the loss of whatever of the world I had because of whatever it was I was high on. There still remains a blank space in my life for that night. I have no idea what happened to me, or how I wound up back at home. I did have the sense to check my body, and other than some small bruising and nibble marks, I was still pure, and my maidenhood was still intact.
But my rebellion focused on black refugees. I started small, by worming my way onto the serving lines at the shelters, or refugee camps as I had learned they were called, and moved up to moving out among them, picking up after they finished eating, and then making deliveries inside the different areas of the camp. The only requirement, and it was absolute, was that I had to be out of there one hour before sunset. I was still a minor, and so it was ’to keep me safe’.
Oddly, though, when I would go with my mother, she had no such restrictions. Every once in a while, she would stay after the relief center was ‘closed’, and I was required to sit in the car for an hour or more. So I did as I was told, for though I could be pissed at my father, I never wanted to cross my mother. That was when shit would get serious. So I waited in the car, and when mom came out, she just looked, well, different. Very relaxed, even happy. She also looked like shit. Mom had always prided herself on her appearance, and I was raised to do the same. Yet when she came out, her hair was mussed, makeup almost destroyed, and a lot of times, her outfit was smudged, or dirty. I just thought that the kitchen must’ve been really dirty or something, and she helped clean it. Why I had to remain in the car was beyond me, but like any teenager, I simply shrugged. Whatever. All I knew was that I was soon holding a driver’s license and was allowed to take the car and do whatever and come back when mom called me.
In order to help these refugees better assimilate into our society, the camp started a work-program. Mostly menial stuff, the women doing cleaning in people’s homes, men doing road maintenance and the like. It was my mom who came up with the idea of having them do yard work and gardening. It would be a skill they could use to start their own business and support their families. Management evidently liked the idea, and once or twice a week, I was left at the camp to help serve and she took two or three of the men to our house. She would return with them at the end of the day, and we would do some form of a ‘prisoner exchange’. The refugee men were released back to camp, and I was taken home. I never noticed it at the time, but my mom often wore different clothes when she came to pick me up, and looked freshly showered and perfect.
This was also about when I had my first kiss. For some reason, some refugee families never left the camp, so I would get to know some of them pretty well. One boy I got to know well was named Ade. Ade was a boy I really felt sorry for. He was literally skin and bones, and it seemed he was always starving. Whenever I could, I would sneak him some extra portions or even just give him my meal. We would sit there and try to talk, and it made us both laugh. It started as pantomime, and then as time went on, I would work on teaching him English. He tried teaching me some of his native Ethiopian language, but frankly, I struggled with English and so we would go into this sort of English-pantomime speak that enabled to get most of our thoughts across.
One day, as I was nearly 18, I was sneaking him some extra food, and as he ate we sat and chatted. My mom saw us, from a ways off, and she smiled to me, winked and blew me a kiss. It was something she did, just to let me know she loved me. Ade looked at me with a very quizzical expression, and I tried to pantomime with him what it meant, but he was clueless. So finally, in frustration, I squared up to him, and wrapped my arms about his neck and gently offered my smiling lips to his. It was the wrong concept, but how do you express a kiss? He got that message, and my first kiss was tentative, but nice. Soon thereafter, whenever my mom blew me a kiss, I would find myself in a lip-lock with Ade if he was nearby.
During all of this time, I was growing up, and turning into what my *** would call ‘Jail Bait”. I had the looks my mother’s genes blessed me with. Nice, long, auburn hair, a healthy set of D-cupped breasts, and an hourglass figure. I overheard my *** and the neighbor talking about me once, and the neighbor mentioned that my ass looked very fuckable. My only problem was that I was short. My mom was five-foot eight and I was a mere five-four. I stopped growing taller in Jr. High school, and began to grow into form at 15. By my 18th birthday, I had it going on!
There were times when my mom was in a playful mood and she would take me shopping with her, and we would wind up with matching outfits. Often it was short-shorts and a crop-top of some sort, and a few short dresses, including some wickedly flared miniskirts. It became a sort of joke between us, to wear matching outfits every day, and I always took my mom’s lead, wearing the same or similar outfit she wore, only with heels to make me taller.
I was also now allowed to have free-range of the camp. A lot of times, mom and I would wear matching outfits, in a show of ****** unity and support or something, only I had to wear heels, because I was so damn short. I was also learning more about being a woman, and how a smile, or a tender caress could make someone feel, and as I would make my way through the camp, mostly wearing heels to match the booty shorts or miniskirts my mom got me. I could feel the men’s staring and smiling, and they would touch me as I passed them. Most of the time it was just a brush against my leg, or some were brazen enough to caress my butt. I would laugh it off, and wave a single finger at them, gesturing no, and still giving them a smile. I still had to let them know they were welcome in the camp, and our country!
Of course, when I would find Ade, we would chat some more, in our own sort of ‘language’, and spend as much time with him as I could. We would talk, and we were kissing a lot more now, most of the time his initiating it, but I didn’t feel it right to refuse him. It would be small kisses at first, and then his tongue would lead the charge, and pry my lips open, and he began to explore my mouth. Our tongues would wrestle, sometimes like thumb-wrestling, and he would defeat me, pinning my tongue under his as I mewed, sighing softly as I felt almost limp in his grasp. He would lick my tongue, under it, around my gums, exploring my mouth to his heart’s content, my blue eyes fluttered closed as he then would begin to feel me.
After the kiss would break, I would become more aware of his hands, and they were often sliding smoothly over me, and I would admire the darkness of his skin over my pale-white flesh, and sometimes, if I wore a too-short or too flared skirt, I felt him slide up to the tops of my thighs, where common sense would remind me that I had to stay a virgin until I got married. I would playfully slap his hands, and he would playfully retreat, only to repeat the cycle. We would play like this for weeks, and his hands would grow more and more bold, rubbing over more and more of me, and I would feel his dark hand on my panties, or my bare butt if I was wearing a thong. Trust was that I was looking more and more forward to my time with him.
I began to wonder about my mom, too. She would disappear, and when it was supposed to be time to go home, I couldn’t find her. The car was still in the parking lot, along with a few others who would ‘pull the night shift’, but she was nowhere to be seen. She had blown me a kiss when we saw each other, but that had been maybe 90 minutes before, and so I went roaming looking for her. Instead, I found Ade, and one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I wasn’t looking for her anymore. I was too busy being lost in Ade’s arms. We were making out, in a part of the camp that I was not super-familiar with. I had only been there maybe three or four times over the years, being warned when I was younger that it was dangerous for me. But I was 18 now, and I felt more mature, and somehow better able to defend myself, if somebody got to be a problem.
But as Ade and I necked, we grew more passionate, and soon I was giving him free-reign over my body. I was wearing an over-size crop-top and booty shorts, with my red-satin thong’s whale-tail displayed over the beltline. I felt Ade reach over me, around me and he began to molest my breasts. My own fingers began to feel him, and though the camp was large, it wasn’t equally funded, so even though Ade’s clothing was clean, it was still ragged and barely held together. I found my fingers clutching a cock, for the very first time, and squeezing it as Ade’s fingers began to tease my nipples. The pleasure was a new height for me, and I could not stop fondling him, or his fondling me.
My fingers began to slide along his hard shaft, and though I had never held one before, he was at least 8 inches long, and I could feel his heartbeat as it thudded through his throbbing black cock. I was laying atop him, on my back, looking over my shoulder to kiss him, when I felt him begin to undo my shorts, my voice purring into his mouth as my hips sorta’ took on a mind of their own. I was slowly gyrating, and writhing under his touch as all of these new, amazing sensations were invading my body as his fingers began to invade me, the small button popping loose as Ade released it, and his hand slithered into my shorts, and under my thong. I felt a stranger touch my vulva for the first time and it blew my mind, my back arching as his fingertips began to circle my love-button. I cried out softly as I shook from the very first male-led orgasm, and had begun to seriously consider giving Ade my virginity. Legs wide, and held open by his, Ade had managed to start sliding my shorts down, and my top was exposing my boobs, baring me nearly completely. Ade was just a few short inches from lowering my shorts and panties down over my hips when everything came to a shrieking stop!
“Suzi!” I immediately registered the angry voice as my mom’s. “What are you doing? Get. Out. Of. Here!”
Some instincts are borne of biology, some are instilled by memory, and my mom rarely yelled at me, she didn’t have to. When she did, however, it was time to get it in gear! This was one of those times when I was on my feet and on the move in a flash, leaving a no-doubt surprised and sexually frustrated Ade sitting there with a wolfish look on his face, his hard cock sticking up through a fold in his pants. My last look over my shoulder at him was his smile and cock, and I realized they were something I had wanted, so badly, and had been so ready to give.
When my mom finally calmed down enough to speak clearly, and escort me bodily by the arm out of the camp, I finally had a good chance to look at her. She looked a mess, to be sure!
“Mom! Okay, Okay... I get it. Ade and me kinda’ got out of hand. I’m sorry! But… what the heck happened to you? You look like crap!” One never cussed around my mom. It was bad for the skin, when she slapped me for talking back.
She did look like a wreck, too. Her makeup was way worse than mine, and her own top had a tear down the middle, which she had used the loose ends to tie-together, and her shorts had mud and dirt all over them. Her hair was just destroyed, and she had to use her fingers as we stood there, trying to regain some semblance of appearance.
“Alright. I suppose it is time to tell you. But we’re gonna’ make a deal. I’ll tell you what has been going on, and you don’t tell your father about me, and I won’t tell your father about you and that man, ya’hear me?” She waited for me to digest this and respond.
“Alright... Deal…” I answered evenly. I had been given the time to calm down, and I think my mom had, too, mostly. “So what’s going on?”
“Well…” my mom began. “You know how important it is to our ****** to help the black immigrants who come to our community, and try and get a better life?”
I simply nodded, leaning back on the hood of her Mercedes.
“Well, awhile back, we started getting a lot more men than women coming in, and those few women we did get tended to get placed with a ******, or if their whole ****** was there, they would all be given a fresh start outside the camp. With me so far?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. More guys than girls. So what?” I responded.
“Well honey, and you will learn this, but when men can’t get rid of certain biological urges, they will fight, or even riot. So to keep things, well, calmer, me and some of the other wives stay after to help them with those urges. So when it can be arranged, I would give these men some relief.”
I was put back a little. “Relief? Relief from what? We already give them food, and the best shelter we can find, and they get clean clothes. What else do they need?”
My mom looked at me for a moment, and finally spoke.
“Oh, Honey, you are so innocent. I suppose that is my fault. Remember who your father and I told you about the birds and the bees? And how you had to take Sex Ed every year in high school? It’s those urges I am helping them with. I let them get rid of their reproductive urges with me.”
My hand went to my gaping mouth. “Mom! You actually fuck one?” I was astonished that my prim and proper mother, who was a pinnacle in the local society was out there having sex without my ***!
“Actually, honey, it is usually more than one. Sometimes two or three at a time.” She looked at me. “And sometimes it can go on for hours.”
I was just at a loss. The conflict in me was pretty big. Sex outside marriage was absolutely forbidden by my parents, and yet here was my mom doing that very same thing! I mean, she was helping black refugees, and that was very important. But what if daddy found out?
“And before you get all uppity about it, you should know that there are probably 10 moms of your friends who also are doing it.” She then grunted. “And from what I can tell, some of your friends.”
I was just stunned! Amber? Bree? Wendy? Their moms, too?
Then I had to stop and think about it. Ade. That man had made me feel amazing things. I realized I wanted to go all the way with him, and give him my virginity. It felt right. It was feeling right to give a black man my virginity. I was starting to warm to the idea.
“So daddy doesn’t know?”
Mom shook her head. “No. Nor does he need to. Truth his honey, your father is actually kind of crappy in bed. He’s got a hair trigger and he’s not very big. Sometimes I can’t even tell when he is inside me, he is that small. The fact I got pregnant with you was a bit of a surprise, to be completely honest. A welcome surprise, mind you, but a surprise, nonetheless. Now, these men get their relief, and you know what? So do I. I mate with these men, willingly, because I feel it is my place to mate with them. It is my duty. I have better sex with them here, and if they are gardening at our house, we do it there, too! These men give me far better sex than your father ever has, or even can. I do it to help these refugees who not only need, but deserve, to have sex with us. And we deserve great sex with black men, who are just plain better lovers. They deserve to make black babies in our white bodies, and if I am being totally honest with you, had I the chance when you were a baby, you might have black brothers or sisters.”
Mom was laying a lot on my plate, as it were, and so now it was my turn to think. Then I asked more important to me question.
“So what about me and Ade? I realize now that there was no way I could have stopped him, and I really didn’t want to. I wanted to let him try and make a baby with me. I wanted, hell, I still want, to have a black baby! As you said, they deserve it… To help them thrive in this country!”
That pulled my mom up short. Looking about, and twisting her lips in thought, the same way I tend to, showed her thinking.
“You’re right. I should not have interrupted. That was wrong of me. But I didn’t know how you feel, and now that I know, I won’t stop you. But at the same point, it also means I can’t help you. I can tell you from experience that Ade won’t be your only, and probably not your last. I will have to let you learn this one the hard way. Once you are with him, word will get around. Then you will be quite popular, indeed. You’re young, pretty and available, now. That is what happened to me. I felt bad for one young man and thought I would help him. A just one time thing. But now it is nearly every day, and none of them use protection. I have sex probably 6 to 8 times a day, and sometimes with multiple partners at once. Likely it will be that way for you. And once you get pregnant, it will be up to you to tell your father.”
And that was the end of the matter.
The next day, I went looking for Ade. I took care of the others as best I could, but Ade was forefront in my mind. I wanted to give myself to him so badly, that I even was so daring to wear a crop top and miniskirt, and left my panties, not in the car, but at home. I didn’t want him to have any doubts about what I wanted, which was his cock taking my cherry and making me his woman. I made my rounds, delivering packages, serving meals, and just overall checking on the poor refugees. We had just gotten two new busses of them, and they looked just shocked and overwhelmed at what had happened to them. Word came they had been in a camp local to their homes, but their civil war had spread into a wildfire and it was only buy luck that they were evacuated before their own assistance center was destroyed, this time by government forces. They had been evacuated from their own country by air, landing here just hours ago. So I pitched in and helped by giving them food, and then after they washed, issuing them new, clean clothes to wear. Then I would assign them areas of the camp to settle in while we took care of everyone else, too. By now, we had several hundred refugees, most of them men, all of them older, and all of them looking malnourished. I felt true pity for them, and gave my warmest smiles and tenderest touches, eager to care and try to ease their haunted minds of the ravages they had seen.
But in the back of my mind, I kept looking for Ade. I even went to the secluded spot we had last been at, interrupted by my mother. It was occupied, but not by Ade. I could hear them before I saw them, and noticed a pair of white arms and legs sandwiched between two sets of dark-skinned male arms and legs. With all of the wriggling they were doing, it took me a second to comprehend that one of the aid workers was sexually servicing these brave men. Later, I found out it was our neighbor, Mrs. Williams, and from what I overheard, what had been intended to be her helping relax a single man had gotten out of control, and by the time it was over, she had lost count of how many men, but from my observation, it had to be at least eight who were watching the whole thing. In fact, I nearly became sexually active within that same group, as I didn’t realize that a hand had slithered up my leg and under my skirt, until fingertips began to probe along my labia. I had prepared myself for the eventuality, even looked forward to it, but I wanted Ade to be my first. With the softest resistance I could manage, smiling to the face attached to the arm, I shook my head and managed to use a sweet voice, saying “Later, later.” And made my escape to the main area and kitchen. I had to take a break and managed a few bites to eat, calming myself down.
“Suzi…” a calm voice called to me.
Looking up, I saw the camp director, a nice, older white man who was named Mr. Brown, coming towards me, his face bearing that same somber look he always had. He could have won the lottery, and doubt his expression would change.
“Suzi… I heard you have been looking for a couple of particular refugees?”
I rose to my heels, smoothing my skirt as I took a proper posture before the older man. “Yessir? What can I do for you?”
“I’ve heard you have been looking for your friend, what’s his name? Aidey?”
“Ade, Sir…” I corrected him. “And yessir, I have been trying to find him all day.”
“Then I have some mixed news for you, dear. I hope it will bring you feel good to know that last night we were able to place him with another couple of men in a new dormitory, sponsored by a ******, and they all now have real jobs, working for the ****** business. They left early this morning, before you arrived, and by now are settling in a few hundred miles from here. They will be given better care than we can here, and a better chance at successful lives from now on. They are off to a great start!” His face almost cracked a smile as he ended, no doubt feeling better about having landed several refugees some place where they will prosper.
For me, I had to struggle to smile, and hide my tears. My Ade was gone, and now I was lost in my heart. Ade had been my friend, and was destined to be more than that. He was going to be my lover. I had real feelings for him, and had even considered asking if we could sponsor him, which would have to be a major exception to my father’s edict. Help them all we can, but there had to be a limit somewhere. Sponsoring, and taking one in was that limit. It was a limit that I was beginning to despise, and within, grow angry at my daddy. He was so hypocritical. He expounded the benefits of helping the less-fortunate, and donated quite a bit to help, and the two women in his life were also dedicated to giving them relief from their despair. If he only knew his own wife was committed fully to them, giving her body as well as her efforts, to these men, and soon, his own ******** would be doing the same.
After getting the news, I was both heartbroken and hurt, and upset, and frustrated. Wandering around the camp, I had no plan, now, no way to live this exquisite experience the way my fairytale mind had built up. My first was to be with a man who I was in love with, and perhaps I would marry, and have his children. I had gone so far as to prepare myself for it, and him. I was dressing more provocatively, to make myself more appealing to my would-be lover, to surrender myself to a cause I felt was most worthy. Loving a black man and being a good, decent, loyal wife to him in all ways. It was a mix of 1950’s Americana and modern-era social relief. I had envisioned a warm, soft bed, loving eyes and all of the sensations making passionate love would deliver, for the both of us. Loving parents showering us with smiles as they doted on their grandchildren, and all the rest of the things I would have seen on television.
I had gotten so lost in my thoughts that I had lost track of the time, where I was, or who I was near. I had been feeling hands as they touched me, which had been happening so often I barely gave it a thought anymore. It had started when I began wearing miniskirts and shorts, and only when someone touched me more intimately did I notice. This time, hands had been reaching up my legs past my knees, and when I turned sharply, allowing the hem of my skirt to flare, I was looking down to find two men grinning as they looked up. Not making eye contact with me, but looking up my skirt to see my charms. I started to reach down, to usher their hands off of me, when other hands reached me from behind, under my skirt, and grope my butt. When I tried to rise, still other hands reached and grabbed my arms. My last look around told me I was in that same area where we had just received the new groups of men, and I was the only white person around.
I was both pushed and pulled, and I felt hands all over me now, my soft voice squealing before a hand covered my red-painted lips. I squirmed and tried to scream, only helplessly, as so many hands managed to roll me over and pull my arms and ankles apart. Laying on the thin plastic mattress we issued each new refugee, hands slithered up my legs and under my skirt, groping me and pulling at my skirt, until some smarter individual simply lifted it up, and exposed my trimmed vulva to them all. Buttons popped as my blouse was yanked open, and my bra-less chest was exposed, my D-cupped bosom sporting hardening nipples as dark lips found them and began to suckle my flesh.
The burning sensation was new to me, and at once it hurt but also was heating me up, and as I wriggled, other hands were still feeling me up, groping my crotch until finally a finger entered me. It didn’t push hard, but stopped short, and excited chatter then began amongst the men. Then there was some pushing and shoving amongst them, and I belatedly realized I they had discovered I was a virgin. That fracas soon became ignored, when a man’s face mashed to mine and his tongue shot into my mouth as thick lips covered my gasping lips. I found myself returning the kiss, out of habit and instinct, as kissing a black man was no strange thing to me after neck and petting with Ade. His tongue delved into my mouth, licking my inner cheeks and tongue, invading my mouth and making me taste him as he tasted me It also made me stop thrashing about, and as I relaxed, so did the grip on my wrists and ankles. They still held me open, but I didn’t fight nearly as hard. Hands were now groping my breasts, and lips were sucking my tender flesh, when my legs were lifted up, bending me until the kissing had broken.
I was just able to look down as a man had positioned himself over me, his now nude ebony body poised with his cock at my labia. He said something to me, in a sneer I didn’t understand, and he then began to lower his hot, throbbing black cock against my pink folds, using the head to slide up and down, until my petals opened, and he began to tease my inner flesh. The pleasure was a new sensation, and fun was the only term I could come up with, when I felt the head of his thick mushroom engage with my hole. I looked up to him, seeing hands still holding my ankles high and wide, along with my wrists, this look of lewdness and lust on his face as he began to push. It gave me a pain so deep I couldn’t help but writhe and try and shake him off. He took a short thrust, sharp and to the point, until he began to invade my body, and in another thrust, I felt the beginnings of pain. He took time in between, I think to better relish deflowering a white girl, until that third thrust and my hymen ruptured. I cried out in pain, wriggling under him, yet unable to deny him as he turned me from a fair maiden into a woman.
He continued to trust more, and he lowered his body onto mine, eyes locked on mine as my lips were parted, gasping for air as my chest rose and fell in shaky, nervous breaths. Each thrust drove him deeper into me, until my valley had been fully invaded. Then he lay atop me, kissing me as he gave tiny little thrusts, to remind me of my place, and to keep him excited, I guess. Then I felt my body sort of relax, and he began to pull back, and then re-insert himself into me, his hips beginning the initial cycles of mating, and now suddenly sending new and very enjoyable sensations through my body. Sex, I was discovering, felt better than great, whatever that word was! I began mewling as he thrust into me, his pace and intensity varying, until he began to push harder into me, my clit aroused as his public bone smacked it repeatedly. My voice went from mewing to moaning to sharp, passionate cries of pleasure, as I felt new sensations, my hips rocking up to meet his cock as it plundered my body, and every thrust brought me to new and greater heights of thrill and pleasure. No wonder why my mom was having sex with so many men. Sex was just awesome!
I felt my body begin to tremble as I felt this odd tingling in my depths, and as my newfound lover thrust, the intensity of pleasure and tingling grew. Son he was hammering away, and I was vibrating along with him, until I felt it happening, this odd, frenzied flexing of my muscles, matching his own frenetic thrusting, until he smashed his cock into me, and I screamed in pleasure. I shuddered violently, and the hands holding me lost their grip. He bellowed as well, and I could sorta’ feel his cock as it pulsed at my labia. I had been given my first real orgasm, and as I lay under him, he had experienced his, and was filling my pulsing love tunnel with his semen. My pussy was massaging his cock, my body eager to get every drop of his black seed to fertilize my white valley. Our bodies were working as nature intended best. Reproducing to make a black baby.
He lay on me for what felt like an eternity, kissing me as I kissed him back, and I broke into this stupid smile, I didn’t know how to speak his language, nor did he know how to speak mine. But I had to let him know it was okay, and that he had not only taken my virginity, I was now okay with it. Somewhere in there, my arms and legs had gone limp, and he lay his legs between mine, still giving me tiny thrusts to empty his balls into me. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew from sex education that my cervix was flexing, scooping his black essence into my womb, his semen swimming upstream to find a floating egg and impregnate me. Maybe ten minutes had elapsed after we shared an orgasm, before he rose.
I started to rise behind him, and other hands jumped in and pushed me back down. Holding me as before, another man took his place above me, and though the pain was next to nothing, I felt some discomfort, at first. By the end of the night, somewhere between six and eight men would have sex with me, all of them cumming in me, while I had a few more orgasms. By the time I was able to get up, and make my way to the car, my mom was there, waiting. She looked just as bad as I felt, and she smiled to me.
“Welcome to the world of being a slut, honey.” She greeted me. “Are you okay?”
She reached out and gave me a hug. I nodded to her with my head into her shoulder. Holding tightly, I spoke softly, with a sad tone in my voice.
“Ade’s gone, mom. He left this morning.” I started to sob.
My mom held me back upright and she nodded to me. “I heard, and I am so so sorry. I know he was very special to you. But you know what? There will be other boys. Whether it is from school, or even here. You will find that right man for you to marry.”
She held me more and let me sob out my feelings. Then she pulled m3e back.
“Tell me. Are you feeling okay?”
“You mean other than I don’t know how many men have fucked me tonight?”
That made my mom blanch.
“Uhh... there was more than one? That is unexpected. I figured you would be with just one guy, and then come out. No wonder you were so long.”
I nodded to her. “They all ejaculated in me, too. All of them. It was in my pussy, and there seems to be a lot of it. I can feel it leaking down my leg as I stand here.”
My mom took a closer look at me, and she nodded. “Yeah, you are sitting on a towel for the trip home. And tomorrow, you are going to the doctor for birth control.”
-----------------------------------------
It was now six months since I had last seen Ade. Since I had lost my virginity, and it wound up taking a week to get in to see the doctor, but by then I had been with perhaps thirty men. Some were repeat lovers from that first night. But so many more were so very eager to put their deposits in the pretty white redhead with the big chest. I had become more adept in my sexual knowledge, learning how to use different positions, how to give blow-jobs, and even learning how to deep throat. Anal sex was still a bitch, and I hated it, but the few times it happened, I wasn’t given much choice. There were simply more men that needed release than my pussy could handle. My mom did her part as well, but there were far more men than women.
Worse was the news my father received. I put off telling him as long as I could, but since that first week had been so busy with bareback sex, the prescription had been made pointless. I was given a routine pregnancy test, and it turned up positive. I was now carrying a black refugee’s baby. I didn’t tell him until I couldn’t hide it any longer, my belly was beginning to show. Of course, he lost his mind and he threatened to kick me out, disown me and the other vile threats a father would do to a child who had so badly erred in judgement. But it was my mom who stepped in and reminded him of his desires for duty and so on. This had turned into a royal, and epic argument between them. That was when my mother dropped the bomb on him. She would leave him if he tossed me out. She told him that black men were deserving us white girls, and he had to deal with it.
When he pressed her on that, she admitted how and why she knew so much about black men. It nearly broke him, but it also opened up a new era in their marriage and lives. He was at first forced, and then later came to accept, his role in life as a cuckold. Black men began coming over daily, and fucking my mom, and myself, often while my daddy would watch, or at least hear us. When mom caught him stroking off to it, she made him agree to wear a chastity cage, and make it official. He was now going to be a cuckold to a ****** where all of the women were now devoted to black cock and black men. He never had sex again.
My mom ran into a man whom she formed a more regular visitation with. Only for a change, he spoke English quite well. He had been a politician in his native land, but had to flee when a military coup had been staged. He was used to power and influence, and so he began to exert it on my mother. She soon became enamored with him, and willingly became devoted to his every whim. She not only became his girl, but also his black cock slut, devoted to all things black. She got a Queen of Spades tattoo above her vagina, and was soon off birth control. She also got a new necklace. One that announced her submission to the man. She became his sex slave. Three months later, she was given a black baby.
Like mine, she had no idea who the father was. She only knew that she would be having unprotected sex with as many black men as she could. I did too, only after I had my first black baby, a boy, I was soon knocked up with another. My first-born was named Ade, and the others would be named after men who had enjoyed me, if I knew their names. I would go on to have three black children, before becoming the wife of my mom’s Bull. Like my mom, I would soon have a tattoo, only mine said “Black Bred” above my vulva. My father gave me away at the ceremony, and I had three more black children in the coming years, starting with having sex during the wedding reception at my new husband’s direction. I suppose he might have been jealous, but he was fucking my mother at the same time. That was the era of when mom and I were truly black cock sluts.
My father? Well, he had little choice, caged as he was, so he put his energies to good use, and formed a foundation to further enhance black men and interracial families. Within a year, the foundation was well-funded and had white girls rostered by the hundreds, starting with Amber, Bree, Wendy, and their moms, as well as myself and my mom. We called ourselves the Blacked Wives Club. The only requirement to join? Unprotected sex with black men, and only black men.
