Reluctant Wife Gives it Up Part 5
Samantha begins to live the life she needed to live. Free of white privilege and its selfish morality, she discovers the pleasures that come with black supremacy and slowly embraces its culture. While her husband convinced her to succumb to black power, she is quickly dismissing him from her life. After all, any black man in her life comes first.
Samantha stood underneath the shower head as warm water bathed her. She had went straight home that Sunday early afternoon from The Black Power Movement's Office of Reparations. Samantha had little to say to her husband, Brett, when she stepped foot inside. She was too exhausted and too spent to make conversation. Besides, Brett was a white male and very much responsible for the racism she had to atone for.
When she finished her shower, Samantha brushed her teeth twice and spat out a cap full of mouthwash. She cleansed her mouth from the taste of cum, cock, and pussy. Samantha stared at herself in the mirror and wondered if she could ever return being a good wife. Why did Zara tell her she was a black cock slut and would never change? She wiped her mouth with a towel and pretended nothing had changed, not even her embrace of a moment of bi-sexuality. Samantha was convinced she was in control of herself. “I agreed to reparations and anal sex by signing those papers. I didn't have to if I wanted differently.” she deluded herself. “If anything, I'm more in control of my life!” she thought.
Samantha, naked, walked out of her master bathroom to her bed. She sat down, faced her dresser, and crossed her legs. Samantha kicked her foot, appearing anxious as she noticed her reflection in the mirror. She stood and walked over to it and stared at her naked body. It wasn't for her husband anymore. Samantha was becoming accustomed to the growing number of black lovers she experienced. “I can stop … if I want to.” Samantha looked down and wrestled her wedding ring off her left hand and put in on the dresser next to her tiny purse. The ring didn't mean much since she starting fucking black men. It was only a reminder she was cheating and signaling she was a race traitor.
Sticking out the purse was a pamphlet given to her by Zara. Samantha pulled it out and as she unfolded it, she read the title, “LIVING UNDER BLACK SUPREMACY a guide for white women”.
Samantha dropped the pamphlet on the dresser as if it was a burning her fingers. She retreated to her bed and sat on the mattress. Her knees apart, she recalled all what she had done and in the past few days. “I'm only doing this for racial justice. There's nothing unusual about a married woman having sex with different black men.” she assured herself. Her heart started racing and that feeling between her legs returned. “Fuck, I am so sexually attracted to them. Does that make me a black supremacist?” she wondered as her knees parted further. Samantha put a hand on her pussy. It needed a touch but it really wanted attention. She took a deep breath and licked her fingers. “I see this is starting to become routine.” she said before masturbating with her fingers now covered with spit.
“Mmmmmm!” Samantha moaned feeling immediate pleasure. It only took thoughts of black power to make her aroused. She lifted her feet and put them on the edge of the bed and rubbed her clit with fury. “Black supremacy does have its benefits!” she said to herself. Samantha started moaning and began thinking about black dick, in her mouth, her pussy, and in her ass. “Ah, gawd! Oh! Yes!” she said aloud.
Brett hearing Samantha from down the hall went to the master bedroom door, “Samantha, are you alright?” he asked before discovering the door was locked on him again.
“I'm okay, dear. I'm just praying.” Brett heard Samantha tell him from the other side of the door. Brett turned around and walked down the hall.
Samantha giggled as she looked at herself in the mirror with no shame as she continued to masturbate. “Feels so good being a race traitor!” she said and she lifted her ass off the bed. “Gawd, I love black cock!” Samantha gasped in frustration both sexual and emotional. She spoke to her pussy, “You need more, don't you?” As she rubbed her pussy for an answer like rubbing a magic lamp for a genie. She felt that answer come in ways of an self-giving orgasm. But then she stopped. Samantha dropped her ass on the mattress and moved her hand away. She panted and waited for her to come from the edge. Wiping her forehead she carefully touched her pussy again. “You win.” she told it.
An hour later, Samantha stormed out of her bedroom wearing her off-white, short-sleeved kimono robe. She chose knee high boots this time. Underneath her kimono, she had nothing but a g-string. Samantha was dressed to be quickly naked. She found Brett sitting alone in the living room. Of course, she grabbed his complete attention in her outfit. “Let's go for a drive.”
Brett took Samantha in his black sedan in directions she gave him. He took the outer road through the stockyards and the shuttered steel mill. It was a depressing area of concrete and rusted metal. The stockyard district represented the failures of Black Pine attempts at industrialization and a world apart from his safe home in the Meadows. A short drive away from there, was the largest trailer park in the city, Black Pine Gardens. It was a place the lower and lower-middle class found refuge. The units were cramped and cluttered. The older sections of the park had more room to maneuver while the newer were crammed so much there were no room for vehicles. While the political shifts attracted many to relocate into the city, the economically less prosperous had to find less than desirable places to settle down.
Samantha asked Brett to park on a shoulder bordering the trailer park. Brett picked a spot underneath a flag flying off its pole celebrating Africa. When he killed the engine he asked, “Now what?”
Samantha took a deep breath and avoided eye contact with her husband. She answered, “This is where La'Damian lives.”
“The young man from the other night? You still trying to get in good with The Black Power Movement?” Brett wondered.
Samantha replied, “This has nothing to do with the Movement or racial justice. I'm seeing him because I need a man to fuck me. Someone with energy, stamina, and a big, black cock!”
Brett was silent realizing his wife was showing sexual hunger. The black men in her life were becoming more important than him and their marriage. Samantha lectured, “I said I wouldn't have sex with black men for sexual gratification. But that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm cheating on you, Brett.” Brett kept his obedient silence and simply raised his chin acknowledging the changes to the relationship with his wife. Samantha took her wedding ring out of her tiny purse and put it over her left ring finger and said, “Later, we'll need to discuss other times I'll … cheat with black men.” Samantha stepped out and told her cuckold she would be back in a couple hours. She closed the passenger down and left Brett behind.
Samantha disappeared after stepping onto the crumbled asphalt and walked through the maze of single-wide units of trailers. Dressed like a prostitute, Samantha confidently strolled through the park. An occasional dog barked in the distance. Pillows of smoke, most of them pungent-smelling, floated out of windows. Samantha looked at the unit numbers as she made closer to La'Damian's trailer. Rap music was popular here where a short while it was country. Samantha thought she overheard someone, a couple trailers away, having wild sex inside. She looked to her right in the space between two trailers. It was a space where the two units rear sides faced each other. There was a trash bin standing there, overflowing with a black hefty bag. Obscured behind the bin were three (legal aged) teenage girls trading a cigarette back and forth with each other. Samantha could hear them whisper and giggle during their new found pleasure.
Walking around the corner, Samantha found La'Damian's unit. She approached the front door, avoiding an old tire with a deflated basketball inside. Straws of vegetation poked through the small, pebbled lawn. Small flowers reminded everyone beauty existed in an oppressed world. Near the front door were empty pots where flowers once planted and long forgotten. Samantha rapped the door three times. She heard a cough and light footsteps before the door creaked open an inch a pair of suspicious eyes looked back.
“Hello?” said a woman's voice.
Startled, Samantha cleared her throat and answered, “Um, I'm here for La'Damian. My name is Samantha.”
“I know who you are. Come in.” said the voice. The door opened and made the distinctive squeaking sound. Samantha stepped inside.
Her name was Aggie and she was La'Damian's mother. She was 48 years old, tall, and still slender as a model. Regardless of her social-economic status she presented herself with grace and respect. Aggie was a very protective mother of her son but extremely progressive.
Aggie asked Samantha to have a talk with her, as Aggie described, “From a black woman to a white girl.” Samantha felt awkward, squirming in her seat trying to not appear as much as a slut.
“Relax, I know why you're here. It's good, damn good, you're overcoming your racism by providing my son what he needs.” Samantha felt awkward and couldn't stop adjusting her outfit. But Aggie kept staring at her with a frozen smile, almost disingenuous, and noticed Samantha's ring on her left hand. “Are you married?” Aggie asked.
Samantha politely nodded and almost proud to “show off” her cheating status for black men. She put her left hand on her chest, fingers spread wide, making sure Aggie got a second look. Aggie never lost her smile or her tempo she carried in the discussion, “It's only right. Your marriage means nothing when it comes to the racism you're responsible for.”
“I'm all about racial justice.” said Samantha rather playfully.
Aggie nodded, “Oh, I know. La'Damian told me everything and how he left a good 'contribution' of black justice inside of you!”
Samantha felt embarrassed, “Um, yeah. We had a good discussion about race.” she deflected. Aggie looked pleasantly surprised but still suspicious, “I need to know you're not playing my La'Damian. You're not one of those uppity white women who just want score a good, black man?”
“No, I'm here for La'Damian. A black man has needs … rights. I want to help.” assured Samantha.
“Help?” questioned Aggie who had doubts about Samantha's commitment. “Or are you here to … serve … serve us?”
Samantha spoke out and blurted, “Serve!”, before collecting herself, “I'm here to serve … the black race.” she said looking down.
Aggie snickered, “You white girls are something when you're desperate for black dick.” Aggie then instructed Samantha to stand and remove her top. Samantha was topless in only her g-string and high-heeled boots. Aggie made Samantha spin around as she put her hands on the white woman's hips and brush her hand underneath her breasts.
“You gonna be a good fuck for my La'Damian?” Aggie demanded.
“Yes, ma'am.” answered Samantha.
After a slap across Samantha's ass, Aggie asked her, “You won't use condoms, right?”
Samantha shook her head and replied, “No, ma'am.”
Aggie was satisfied, “I'd like to see something black grow inside you. Gotta breed your kind out!”
“I've betrayed my marriage and my race for your son.” said Samantha, “Please let me show you what kind of white girl I am.” Samantha had let go of all shame. She was begging La'Damian's mother for sex.
Aggie snickered again. A white girl would say anything to get a good, black dick inside her. Aggie would at least see a white girl's marriage ruined further. Little would make Aggie happier than ending a white marriage followed by a black newborn.
“Get the fuck down the hall then. The door at the far end.” said Aggie.
Samantha walked down the hall into the far bedroom where La'Damian was waiting for her. He was standing by the edge of the bed wearing only a tight, black pouch as men's underwear. Samantha walked into the room, as nearly naked as he. She braced her breasts against his chiseled chest and the couple kissed.
Samantha dropped to her knees and peeled off La'Damian's underwear and pulled them to the floor. No shame, no embarrassment, she grabbed his black cock with her right hand and lowered her head. Filling the room with suck and slurping sounds, La'Damian let out a deep sigh of sexual relief and put his hand around her head.
Aggie had followed Samantha into the bedroom and shook her head at Samantha. When she saw La'Damian buck his hips, pushing his cock into Samantha's mouth, Aggie knew there would be no stopping the young man's lust until he was done. Aggie closed the door and headed back to the living room for some weed.
La'Damian and Samantha began their interracial tryst with several minutes of cock sucking and ball licking. Samantha asked La'Damian to bend over the bed . She knelt behind him and put her nose in his ass, lapping his sphincter with her tongue. Samantha asked of La'Damian, “Tell me how much you hate my race.” La'Damian grunted feeling her warm tongue soothe him. He shook his head and confessed his ill-feelings for pale-skinned peoples.
“Fuckin' hate your fuckin' race! You're no-good evil, mutha-fuckers!” he yelled. His energy and passion made Samantha's nipples hard. “Yeah! Fuck us up!” muttered Samantha with a mouth full of black ass. “Lick that ass … “ La'Damian whispered.
Having laid down on his back, La'Damian looked at Samantha bobbing her head on his cock. Samantha smacked her face with his hard organ over and over again. She acted like a starved woman at a buffet. She tasted every inch of black, sex-flesh using her mouth as a receptacle for his manly pleasures. Samantha even told him, “You're such a man!”
“Suck that black cock, whore!” said La'Damian. He said it so loud Aggie could hear him from the front room. Samantha locked eyes with him. The 18 year-old was in control of the bedroom. “No white man ever talks to me like this.” she told him. La'Damian grabbed the base of his cock and tapped Samantha's nose with it. “Suck that dick, white girl! Do what I fucking say!” he demanded. Samantha moaned loud as if she had an orgasm and pushed his organ as deep into her mouth as possible.
La'Damian was king in his bed. Samantha offered him pussy to eat and she crawled into a “sixty-nine” position over him. La'Damian accepted and brushed his nose into her pussy lips before he began licking her. The couple exchanged pleasures with their lips and tongue. Samantha enjoyed feeling La'Damian's hands gripping her ass. The white girl purposely made rhythmic slurping sounds as she “popped” her lips around his cock head. She was falling in love with the purple head waiting for delicious, white gel to spill out from its little slit. Samantha heard the bedroom door squeak and she instinctively looked up. She caught Aggie's eyes staring back a flash of a second before smelling a pungent odor of weed. Samantha made sure to make a loud popping sound before announcing, “I love black cock!” She bucked her hips back grinding her pussy into La'Damian's face. Aggie had seen enough and closed the door.
Samantha turned around and made sure La'Damian was comfortable. She crawled on top and straddled his cock gripping it with her left hand. Using her right placed on his chest for balance, she lowered her ass and felt the penetration. La'Damian's cock had pushed into her and deep into her womb. She let out a moan, cocked her head back, and started moving up and down.
“Aaaaagh … fuck! This is black power!” celebrated Samantha. “Ride that dick!” La'Damian called out. Samantha looked into the mirror and saw her reflection. She started to giggle as her breasts jiggled. Samantha put her nose to La'Damian's and the lover's kissed. “Are we fighting racism?” she whispered to him. La'Damian just nodded and uttered a “Huh-uh.”while his hands groped her breasts.
Moments later after Samantha's first orgasm, she was turned on her back. Her lover ground his loins into her and he put his nose into her right ear. La'Damian grunted as he pushed his fantastic organ deep into her womb. Samantha muttered with each thrust, “Ugh … ugh … ugh ...”. She put her knees up near his shoulders and let him take control. “I hate your race so much! Make slaves of you all!” La'Damian growled. Samantha nodded, “Yes … fuck me … use me … I want to be a black man's slave!”
“You're a sex toy ...” La'Damian said before a growl. “... that's all you are ...” he finished.
Samantha nodded accepting her place as a “black man's sex object”. She laughed again and said, “I hate my fucking white race!” La'Damian pushed and pushed again.
“Fuck my pussy! Fuck my race!” Samantha cried out. She hoped Aggie could hear from the next room. Samantha looked into La'Damian's handsome face, so full of passion and rage. She gave up everything, her marriage and her self-respect to be fucked by a black man after black man. It felt so incredible she went into a violent orgasm shaking the tin walls that could be heard within nearby trailers. La'Damian cursed at himself. He had so much more to say to Samantha about her race. But there was little time. Samantha felt the splatter of hot goo, as thick as oatmeal, dump into her womb. Her eyes and mouth opened wide and she let out a silent cry. La'Damian just grunted and repeated over and over, “Fuck!”
La'Damian pulled out and leaped up stroking his semi-hard cock over Samantha's lips. She parted them wide and anxiously waited to be blessed with more of his nectar. But what was left of La'Damian's seed was thick dribble. Samantha was more than happy to suck him clean. La'Damian rolled over to the side of the bed and collapsed feeling spent and exhausted. Samantha laid beside him put her arms around him and cooed, “I just love being a sex object.”
But Aggie would have no more of Samantha's bullshit. She had walked in at the very end and saw Samantha eat cum like a filthy whore. “He's done with you, slut! Now, get the fuck out of my house!” she yelled.
Back at the car, Brett waited patiently drumming his fingers. He knew each minute he waited was another minute his wife was getting black dick and becoming a different woman. Brett was getting himself excited at the thought of Samantha making a habit of wanting and having sex with many different men. He squeezed his crotch. Nothing else made him aroused so easily.
Samantha stepped out of Aggie's trailer and felt the cool breeze on the front porch. With her appetite momentarily sated, she had a clear head. She looked at herself and how black cock made her dress like a whore. She remembered Brett, waiting for her at the car. Samantha scoffed at him. “What a cuck!” she thought to herself blaming him for the change in their marriage. Samantha took a deep breath and walked back.
As Samantha strolled back, she didn't notice the woman coming out of her trailer across from Aggie's. She was an attractive red-head in her thirties, barefoot, and wearing a bikini top and denim shorts. The red head stared at Samantha wondering if she had strolled out of La'Damian's house. She ran across and up to Aggie's door and helped herself and pulled the door open. She yelled inside, “La'Damian? Sweetie? What was that blonde doing here?” she wondered.
Samantha was half-way back to the car when she turned her head looking into the two trailers cramped together where the three teen girls smoked their cigarette. The girls were still there but knelt on the rocky ground behind that large garbage bin. Their whispers made Samantha too curious and she stopped dead in her tracks. She hoped she hadn't made too much noise and didn't want to be spotted.
There was a black teen male standing behind the bin. He was barely legal age, young but handsome. Samantha could only see his contorted face looking like he was in pain. The young man popped his eyes open and seethed. He would nod his head a couple times before seething again. Samantha was drawn in and approached the teens quietly.
Samantha began to hear hushed noises, “Hmmm … mmmmph, mmmmph, hmmm.” When she got closer she saw the blonde and brunette watching the red head move her head back and forth. “Oh, my gawd.” whispered the blonde while the brunette covered her mouth and shook her head.
Trying to conceal her presence, Samantha brushed against the far trailer wall as the red head scooted back and the blonde took her place. The three girls were trading turns sucking the teen's black cock. The brunette was the first to notice Samantha. It was only a second later so did the red head. They made room for Samantha giving her space to come near in between. Samantha dropped to her knees when the blonde finished her turn and wiped her lips. The brunette took her place and Samantha moved near.
Samantha enjoyed watching the cute teen approach with what was likely her first cock. She looked uneasy but committed. Samantha rubbed her breasts underneath her top and put her other hand on the brunette's head. “Don't be afraid.” she whispered. “Just put it in your mouth.” she added. The teen took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and tasted her first black dick. Back and forth she moved her head. She didn't gag or pull away afraid. With the slurping sounds, everyone understood she was enjoying the experience. Samantha was really pleased and gave a soft clap with her hands and whispered, “Yea!”
When the brunette felt she had her time, Samantha moved in and began her turn. The young man let out a soft moan as Samantha made a loud slurping sound at the risk of drawing more attention. She bobbed her head slowly then quick making arousing noises. The other three girls giggled, liking what they saw. The black teen bucked his hips. The first was subtle but the second was hard and forceful making Samantha gag. She responded by licking his balls that drew gasps from the other three at her slutty act. Samantha turned her head and curled her fingers to the red head. It was her turn again.
Each of the four girls made another round of cock sucking and ball licking. The black teen bucked his hips more forcefully with each showing he was in charge. The red head got on her feet and started kissing the young man's chest. He groped at her breasts and the red headed teen understood it was right for her to show her bare breasts to him. Below, Samantha took her third turn but had a black hand on her head. He grunted, bucked and his cock erupted mouthful of cum into Samantha's mouth. She immediately turned her head and shared an open mouthed kiss with the blonde.
The red head dropped to her knees and took the blonde by her chin and wanted a mouthful herself. Meanwhile, the petite, shy brunette backed away but Samantha wouldn't let her miss out on the fun. Samantha walked up to her and hypnotized the teen with her eyes. The bashful brunette was frozen as Samantha leaned in, parted her lips, and exchanged a passionate kiss with the taste of cum to share. Their tongues danced together. The teen gave a muffled whine but realized how erotic it made her feel.
Samantha turned her head to the young black man, who was panting and feeling relieved. “Tomorrow, you're fucking the red head.” she said. “Then the blonde ...” Samantha turned to the brunette, “... then you.” All the girls giggled, except the trembling brunette with her face blushed.
Brett was beginning to think Samantha had gone for a very long time. She must have been getting seriously fucked, he thought. His little racial justice warrior was gaining in confidence putting out for black men in trailer parks, seedy motels, and sex clubs. Brett was humbled at La'Damian's entitlement to fuck his wife again leaving him sexless. He remembered La'Damian was only 18 years old but had Samantha's attention. Maybe, Brett would see more of La'Damian and in the marriage bed.
Samantha caught Brett by surprise when she popped open the passenger door and hopped in. “Okay, let's go.” she said. Brett wanted to ask her a question but his wife was terse. “Don't make me ask again.” she sneered.
The drive home was very quiet without another word exchanged. Sam kept looking over at the corner of his eye at Samantha's crossed legs imagining how they were spread. His little penis started getting hard knowing she had put another black dick between those lips and made La'Damian feel more important. In presence of strong, sexually prowess black men, Brett felt insignificant.
When the couple returned to their own house nestled in the Meadow District it was well into the evening. Samantha headed straight to the bedroom and shower. Brett fumbled with his phone in the living room. He wanted Samantha to start telling details. He wanted to know how black men used her and the curiosity was making his penis ache. He foolishly felt, he was owed those details. Samantha returned from the shower dressed in her plush robe and had her hair up in a bun. She walked straight to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea to calm herself from a busy day of sex. Brett walked into the kitchen trying to find the courage to ask Samantha to open up about her black experiences. But Samantha stood in the corner staring out the window letting her tea get cold.
“Samantha?” Brett called out to her.
“We need to talk, Brett.” said Samantha rather coldly, “We need to talk about our marriage.”
Brett looked down and felt awkward and small. He cleared his throat and replied, “Okay.”
Samantha took a quick breath in through her nostrils and told him, “It's about our 'lifestyle'. I haven't been a good wife, lately. I've put more energy in having sex with … black men than working on our relationship.”
“What … what are you trying to tell me, Samantha?” Brett wondered.
Then Samantha blurted out, “I want a black boyfriend.”
Brett was stunned with silence. But his wife wasn't silent, “I need sex everyday, Brett. I prefer having it with the same man … two … three times a day, if necessary.”
“I see.” simply said her husband without making eye contact.
Samantha continued, “I'm more than willing to have sex with other black men for racial justice … a few times a week. You can even take me to the Black Bull Club … if my black boyfriend allows it.” Brett continued his silence and was starting to sweat from the neck up. Samantha grinned, “And one more thing, I think its best that I'm seen at The Black Power Movement with a black man. This is where having a black boyfriend would be best for everyone.”
Brett stuttered, “And … and where are you going to find a … boyfriend?” he spat out.
“The Black Power Movement can set me up on 'speed dates'. I'll meet three or four men a day and each date would end in sex. After a couple weeks or so, I would narrow the list and do another round of speed dates. I'm really wanting to be hooked up with a violent, ex-con.” said Samantha.
“An ex-con?” wondered Brett.
“Yes, violent!” Samantha said with a big smile. She took her warm, cup of tea and retreated to her bedroom complaining she was exhausted and looking forward to a long night's rest. Samantha pecked Brett on the cheek on her way out telling him, “Remember, I'm committed to black power.” She disappeared through the living room and to the hallway feeling liberated.
Brett's eyes popped open in the middle of the night. The guest bed wasn't as comfortable as his marriage bed he sadly discovered. He looked at his phone and saw it was a little after one in the morning. Through the bottom of his closed, bedroom door, he caught the light from the hallway lamp before it flickered off. Brett heard the distinctive sound of Samantha in her high heels … her walk through the kitchen and garage door … the garage door lifting … engine roaring … garage door dropping. Brett leaped out of bed and chased Samantha, already long gone, through the garage. She had taken the black sedan for another unannounced, late night trip.
Brett smelt the fragrance lingering in the room of his wife's most expensive perfume. He figured she was out hunting for a black boyfriend she wanted. Either way, he was confident she was scoring more dick. He returned to his bed, what else could he do? Brett stared into the ceiling and automatically began rubbing at this crotch. What was going through her head? He wished Samantha would have told him she was stepping out. Even teasing him about it. But it seemed she didn't him anymore.
Brett tried to fall asleep but his eyes popped open nearly an hour later. He began panting and dealing with a strange obsession. He was curious, aroused, and weirdly … heartbroken. He had to know what Samantha was up to? He had to know the details! Brett threw on clothes and took the white sedan for a late night trip into the darkest parts of Black Pine.
In his white sedan, Brett first drove to the Red Light District and The Black Bull Club. The club reported to be open 24 hours a day, including the private side. Off the district's “main street” where gentleman lounges and adult shops stood, Brett went down a narrow street past a burned down, abandoned pawn shop and a three-story transient hotel. Normally, there would be at least one prostitute walking up and down the alley. Being early Monday morning, they were all indoors. Brett drove into the Black Bull Club's lot. There were only two cars in the lot, both SUVs. He figured Samantha was not here.
Brett spun around and drove down main street looking at the few, parallel parked cars. They were few in front of the gentleman's club. But none of them belonged to Samantha. He left the district and headed towards The Black Power Movement headquarters. It wasn't too far away and he could see Samantha “volunteering” for a late night seminar practicing racial harmony. She did say the BPM would hook her up with many, good men to choose. He drove into the nearly abandoned parking lot save one beat up parking lot at the far end. Brett drove around back and it was deserted leaving only trash dumpster there. When he circled around the other end, he spotted a security guard dressed in the typical puffy, black jacket sneering at him. The guard took out his phone and tried aiming its camera at Brett's sedan. Brett's heart started racing and realized he wasn't welcomed and drove away spinning his tires on the pavement.
Brett made it through the stockyards, its nearby shuttered steel mill and the slaughter house. He headed to The Black Owned Motel. It would make sense for a late night hook up. He saw, lit up by the tungsten, eerie light over the motel's lot. The lot was a third full, more than Brett would have guessed. He took a parking spot near the entrance, far from the manager's office where he could look down at every room door from where he was sitting.
The first thing he did after turning off his lights and engine was making sure he wasn't spotted. He felt uncomfortable and paranoid after being spotted by The Movement security. As a white man, he felt frightened and afraid. Brett looked up and down the cars parked in front of the doors and …
There was the black sedan parked in front of room number “5”. It was Samantha's alright. The license plate sealed it. Brett felt like a fist had punched his stomach, a black fist. After the initial shock at Samantha's betrayal he kept starting at the door “5”. Five minutes went by, then then, fifteen. Brett pleaded then demanded the door to open. After thirty minutes it slowly opened and cast a pale, yellow light outside.
Stepping outside was a black man, large in size and is his thirties. He had a oversize short-sleeved shirt pulled over his waist. He stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the door looking content and satisfied. Following him was Samantha. She put an hand on his shoulder and wanted a kiss. Brett's wife was dressed in the shortest, tightest, blackest yoga shorts gripping her ass as tight as skin. Wearing an sleeveless halter crop top, it was just as black showing off her nice-sized breasts. In Samantha's high heels, also black, she looked like a prostitute.
“Oh, my gosh … she did it.” Brett mumbled to himself. His small penis hardened in the idea of another black man taking her and changing her. But her latest 'boyfriend' stepped away, and came a raven-haired woman dressed in an outfit as provocative and sexually inviting as Samantha's. The women smiled and hugged each other as if they were long friends. But Brett stomach dropped again when the women kissed. It wasn't a friendly kiss on the cheeks but full open mouth with hands groping each other. Brett couldn't look away as the women resumed talking to each other. They smiled, laughed, and chatted. The raven-haired prostitute took out a cigarette and started puffing on it.
Meanwhile, a European sports car pulled in front of Brett's modest sedan. The luxury car pulled into a spot in front of door “7”. It caught the attention of Samantha and her 'friend'. They both looked patiently waiting to see what sort of man would step out of such an expensive vehicle. A tall, black gentleman with long dreadlocks stepped out. From afar, he looked dressed in modest clothing, black jeans and a t-shirt. But they were high-end brands, costing more than any of Brett's suits. He sported a necklace as bright gold as his belt. The man-with-expensive-tastes approached the girls and smiled. Both Samantha and the raven-haired went to him, rubbing their hands on his muscular chest. They tried to seduce him by showing off their bodies. Samantha turned on her side. Brett read Samantha's lips, “Like that ass?” she asked. Samantha's friend jumped on her feet pleading, “Me! Me!” leaving the gentleman rub his chin.
Samantha proudly showed her sexual independence and Brett knew he could do nothing to stop it. The drama didn't last much longer as the man-with-expensive tastes took the raven-haired woman by her hand and walked towards the far end of the building. The girls gave each other a friendly goodbye wave leaving Samantha alone in the cold night.
Brett watched Samantha reach into a small purse, pulled out a cigarette, and a lighter. She lit one up and happily blew smoke up into the air. “Samantha doesn't smoke!” Brett deluded himself. But there she stood with one heel up, she leaned against the door frame, the door still open inviting anyone to visit. Brett couldn't resist and grabbed at his crotch. The more he realized he wasn't in control of his wife or marriage, the more it excited him. She never looked happier far from her husband, home, and a “white” married life.
Samantha's time to relax didn't last. A young black man, 20 years old, walked up to Samantha. In black slacks, a long sleeved blue-shirt and narrow tie. In his polished dress shoes, he looked humble and whispered to Samantha. He had a clean shaven face, almost innocent looking, with mannerisms suited for a choir. Samantha entertained the young gentleman rubbing his collar and pulling on his tie. He did most of the talking as Samantha nodded and mouthed, “... yes … sure ...”
The polite young man tried to get a reaction out of Samantha but she didn't say another word and only politely smiled. When he pulled a couple bills out of his pocket, Samantha grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into the room and closed the door. Brett let out a hot gasp of air that nearly winded him. He didn't recognize his wife anymore. But he understood she belonged here and it was time for him to drive home, alone.
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section.
Samantha begins to live the life she needed to live. Free of white privilege and its selfish morality, she discovers the pleasures that come with black supremacy and slowly embraces its culture. While her husband convinced her to succumb to black power, she is quickly dismissing him from her life. After all, any black man in her life comes first.
Samantha stood underneath the shower head as warm water bathed her. She had went straight home that Sunday early afternoon from The Black Power Movement's Office of Reparations. Samantha had little to say to her husband, Brett, when she stepped foot inside. She was too exhausted and too spent to make conversation. Besides, Brett was a white male and very much responsible for the racism she had to atone for.
When she finished her shower, Samantha brushed her teeth twice and spat out a cap full of mouthwash. She cleansed her mouth from the taste of cum, cock, and pussy. Samantha stared at herself in the mirror and wondered if she could ever return being a good wife. Why did Zara tell her she was a black cock slut and would never change? She wiped her mouth with a towel and pretended nothing had changed, not even her embrace of a moment of bi-sexuality. Samantha was convinced she was in control of herself. “I agreed to reparations and anal sex by signing those papers. I didn't have to if I wanted differently.” she deluded herself. “If anything, I'm more in control of my life!” she thought.
Samantha, naked, walked out of her master bathroom to her bed. She sat down, faced her dresser, and crossed her legs. Samantha kicked her foot, appearing anxious as she noticed her reflection in the mirror. She stood and walked over to it and stared at her naked body. It wasn't for her husband anymore. Samantha was becoming accustomed to the growing number of black lovers she experienced. “I can stop … if I want to.” Samantha looked down and wrestled her wedding ring off her left hand and put in on the dresser next to her tiny purse. The ring didn't mean much since she starting fucking black men. It was only a reminder she was cheating and signaling she was a race traitor.
Sticking out the purse was a pamphlet given to her by Zara. Samantha pulled it out and as she unfolded it, she read the title, “LIVING UNDER BLACK SUPREMACY a guide for white women”.
Samantha dropped the pamphlet on the dresser as if it was a burning her fingers. She retreated to her bed and sat on the mattress. Her knees apart, she recalled all what she had done and in the past few days. “I'm only doing this for racial justice. There's nothing unusual about a married woman having sex with different black men.” she assured herself. Her heart started racing and that feeling between her legs returned. “Fuck, I am so sexually attracted to them. Does that make me a black supremacist?” she wondered as her knees parted further. Samantha put a hand on her pussy. It needed a touch but it really wanted attention. She took a deep breath and licked her fingers. “I see this is starting to become routine.” she said before masturbating with her fingers now covered with spit.
“Mmmmmm!” Samantha moaned feeling immediate pleasure. It only took thoughts of black power to make her aroused. She lifted her feet and put them on the edge of the bed and rubbed her clit with fury. “Black supremacy does have its benefits!” she said to herself. Samantha started moaning and began thinking about black dick, in her mouth, her pussy, and in her ass. “Ah, gawd! Oh! Yes!” she said aloud.
Brett hearing Samantha from down the hall went to the master bedroom door, “Samantha, are you alright?” he asked before discovering the door was locked on him again.
“I'm okay, dear. I'm just praying.” Brett heard Samantha tell him from the other side of the door. Brett turned around and walked down the hall.
Samantha giggled as she looked at herself in the mirror with no shame as she continued to masturbate. “Feels so good being a race traitor!” she said and she lifted her ass off the bed. “Gawd, I love black cock!” Samantha gasped in frustration both sexual and emotional. She spoke to her pussy, “You need more, don't you?” As she rubbed her pussy for an answer like rubbing a magic lamp for a genie. She felt that answer come in ways of an self-giving orgasm. But then she stopped. Samantha dropped her ass on the mattress and moved her hand away. She panted and waited for her to come from the edge. Wiping her forehead she carefully touched her pussy again. “You win.” she told it.
An hour later, Samantha stormed out of her bedroom wearing her off-white, short-sleeved kimono robe. She chose knee high boots this time. Underneath her kimono, she had nothing but a g-string. Samantha was dressed to be quickly naked. She found Brett sitting alone in the living room. Of course, she grabbed his complete attention in her outfit. “Let's go for a drive.”
Brett took Samantha in his black sedan in directions she gave him. He took the outer road through the stockyards and the shuttered steel mill. It was a depressing area of concrete and rusted metal. The stockyard district represented the failures of Black Pine attempts at industrialization and a world apart from his safe home in the Meadows. A short drive away from there, was the largest trailer park in the city, Black Pine Gardens. It was a place the lower and lower-middle class found refuge. The units were cramped and cluttered. The older sections of the park had more room to maneuver while the newer were crammed so much there were no room for vehicles. While the political shifts attracted many to relocate into the city, the economically less prosperous had to find less than desirable places to settle down.
Samantha asked Brett to park on a shoulder bordering the trailer park. Brett picked a spot underneath a flag flying off its pole celebrating Africa. When he killed the engine he asked, “Now what?”
Samantha took a deep breath and avoided eye contact with her husband. She answered, “This is where La'Damian lives.”
“The young man from the other night? You still trying to get in good with The Black Power Movement?” Brett wondered.
Samantha replied, “This has nothing to do with the Movement or racial justice. I'm seeing him because I need a man to fuck me. Someone with energy, stamina, and a big, black cock!”
Brett was silent realizing his wife was showing sexual hunger. The black men in her life were becoming more important than him and their marriage. Samantha lectured, “I said I wouldn't have sex with black men for sexual gratification. But that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm cheating on you, Brett.” Brett kept his obedient silence and simply raised his chin acknowledging the changes to the relationship with his wife. Samantha took her wedding ring out of her tiny purse and put it over her left ring finger and said, “Later, we'll need to discuss other times I'll … cheat with black men.” Samantha stepped out and told her cuckold she would be back in a couple hours. She closed the passenger down and left Brett behind.
Samantha disappeared after stepping onto the crumbled asphalt and walked through the maze of single-wide units of trailers. Dressed like a prostitute, Samantha confidently strolled through the park. An occasional dog barked in the distance. Pillows of smoke, most of them pungent-smelling, floated out of windows. Samantha looked at the unit numbers as she made closer to La'Damian's trailer. Rap music was popular here where a short while it was country. Samantha thought she overheard someone, a couple trailers away, having wild sex inside. She looked to her right in the space between two trailers. It was a space where the two units rear sides faced each other. There was a trash bin standing there, overflowing with a black hefty bag. Obscured behind the bin were three (legal aged) teenage girls trading a cigarette back and forth with each other. Samantha could hear them whisper and giggle during their new found pleasure.
Walking around the corner, Samantha found La'Damian's unit. She approached the front door, avoiding an old tire with a deflated basketball inside. Straws of vegetation poked through the small, pebbled lawn. Small flowers reminded everyone beauty existed in an oppressed world. Near the front door were empty pots where flowers once planted and long forgotten. Samantha rapped the door three times. She heard a cough and light footsteps before the door creaked open an inch a pair of suspicious eyes looked back.
“Hello?” said a woman's voice.
Startled, Samantha cleared her throat and answered, “Um, I'm here for La'Damian. My name is Samantha.”
“I know who you are. Come in.” said the voice. The door opened and made the distinctive squeaking sound. Samantha stepped inside.
Her name was Aggie and she was La'Damian's mother. She was 48 years old, tall, and still slender as a model. Regardless of her social-economic status she presented herself with grace and respect. Aggie was a very protective mother of her son but extremely progressive.
Aggie asked Samantha to have a talk with her, as Aggie described, “From a black woman to a white girl.” Samantha felt awkward, squirming in her seat trying to not appear as much as a slut.
“Relax, I know why you're here. It's good, damn good, you're overcoming your racism by providing my son what he needs.” Samantha felt awkward and couldn't stop adjusting her outfit. But Aggie kept staring at her with a frozen smile, almost disingenuous, and noticed Samantha's ring on her left hand. “Are you married?” Aggie asked.
Samantha politely nodded and almost proud to “show off” her cheating status for black men. She put her left hand on her chest, fingers spread wide, making sure Aggie got a second look. Aggie never lost her smile or her tempo she carried in the discussion, “It's only right. Your marriage means nothing when it comes to the racism you're responsible for.”
“I'm all about racial justice.” said Samantha rather playfully.
Aggie nodded, “Oh, I know. La'Damian told me everything and how he left a good 'contribution' of black justice inside of you!”
Samantha felt embarrassed, “Um, yeah. We had a good discussion about race.” she deflected. Aggie looked pleasantly surprised but still suspicious, “I need to know you're not playing my La'Damian. You're not one of those uppity white women who just want score a good, black man?”
“No, I'm here for La'Damian. A black man has needs … rights. I want to help.” assured Samantha.
“Help?” questioned Aggie who had doubts about Samantha's commitment. “Or are you here to … serve … serve us?”
Samantha spoke out and blurted, “Serve!”, before collecting herself, “I'm here to serve … the black race.” she said looking down.
Aggie snickered, “You white girls are something when you're desperate for black dick.” Aggie then instructed Samantha to stand and remove her top. Samantha was topless in only her g-string and high-heeled boots. Aggie made Samantha spin around as she put her hands on the white woman's hips and brush her hand underneath her breasts.
“You gonna be a good fuck for my La'Damian?” Aggie demanded.
“Yes, ma'am.” answered Samantha.
After a slap across Samantha's ass, Aggie asked her, “You won't use condoms, right?”
Samantha shook her head and replied, “No, ma'am.”
Aggie was satisfied, “I'd like to see something black grow inside you. Gotta breed your kind out!”
“I've betrayed my marriage and my race for your son.” said Samantha, “Please let me show you what kind of white girl I am.” Samantha had let go of all shame. She was begging La'Damian's mother for sex.
Aggie snickered again. A white girl would say anything to get a good, black dick inside her. Aggie would at least see a white girl's marriage ruined further. Little would make Aggie happier than ending a white marriage followed by a black newborn.
“Get the fuck down the hall then. The door at the far end.” said Aggie.
Samantha walked down the hall into the far bedroom where La'Damian was waiting for her. He was standing by the edge of the bed wearing only a tight, black pouch as men's underwear. Samantha walked into the room, as nearly naked as he. She braced her breasts against his chiseled chest and the couple kissed.
Samantha dropped to her knees and peeled off La'Damian's underwear and pulled them to the floor. No shame, no embarrassment, she grabbed his black cock with her right hand and lowered her head. Filling the room with suck and slurping sounds, La'Damian let out a deep sigh of sexual relief and put his hand around her head.
Aggie had followed Samantha into the bedroom and shook her head at Samantha. When she saw La'Damian buck his hips, pushing his cock into Samantha's mouth, Aggie knew there would be no stopping the young man's lust until he was done. Aggie closed the door and headed back to the living room for some weed.
La'Damian and Samantha began their interracial tryst with several minutes of cock sucking and ball licking. Samantha asked La'Damian to bend over the bed . She knelt behind him and put her nose in his ass, lapping his sphincter with her tongue. Samantha asked of La'Damian, “Tell me how much you hate my race.” La'Damian grunted feeling her warm tongue soothe him. He shook his head and confessed his ill-feelings for pale-skinned peoples.
“Fuckin' hate your fuckin' race! You're no-good evil, mutha-fuckers!” he yelled. His energy and passion made Samantha's nipples hard. “Yeah! Fuck us up!” muttered Samantha with a mouth full of black ass. “Lick that ass … “ La'Damian whispered.
Having laid down on his back, La'Damian looked at Samantha bobbing her head on his cock. Samantha smacked her face with his hard organ over and over again. She acted like a starved woman at a buffet. She tasted every inch of black, sex-flesh using her mouth as a receptacle for his manly pleasures. Samantha even told him, “You're such a man!”
“Suck that black cock, whore!” said La'Damian. He said it so loud Aggie could hear him from the front room. Samantha locked eyes with him. The 18 year-old was in control of the bedroom. “No white man ever talks to me like this.” she told him. La'Damian grabbed the base of his cock and tapped Samantha's nose with it. “Suck that dick, white girl! Do what I fucking say!” he demanded. Samantha moaned loud as if she had an orgasm and pushed his organ as deep into her mouth as possible.
La'Damian was king in his bed. Samantha offered him pussy to eat and she crawled into a “sixty-nine” position over him. La'Damian accepted and brushed his nose into her pussy lips before he began licking her. The couple exchanged pleasures with their lips and tongue. Samantha enjoyed feeling La'Damian's hands gripping her ass. The white girl purposely made rhythmic slurping sounds as she “popped” her lips around his cock head. She was falling in love with the purple head waiting for delicious, white gel to spill out from its little slit. Samantha heard the bedroom door squeak and she instinctively looked up. She caught Aggie's eyes staring back a flash of a second before smelling a pungent odor of weed. Samantha made sure to make a loud popping sound before announcing, “I love black cock!” She bucked her hips back grinding her pussy into La'Damian's face. Aggie had seen enough and closed the door.
Samantha turned around and made sure La'Damian was comfortable. She crawled on top and straddled his cock gripping it with her left hand. Using her right placed on his chest for balance, she lowered her ass and felt the penetration. La'Damian's cock had pushed into her and deep into her womb. She let out a moan, cocked her head back, and started moving up and down.
“Aaaaagh … fuck! This is black power!” celebrated Samantha. “Ride that dick!” La'Damian called out. Samantha looked into the mirror and saw her reflection. She started to giggle as her breasts jiggled. Samantha put her nose to La'Damian's and the lover's kissed. “Are we fighting racism?” she whispered to him. La'Damian just nodded and uttered a “Huh-uh.”while his hands groped her breasts.
Moments later after Samantha's first orgasm, she was turned on her back. Her lover ground his loins into her and he put his nose into her right ear. La'Damian grunted as he pushed his fantastic organ deep into her womb. Samantha muttered with each thrust, “Ugh … ugh … ugh ...”. She put her knees up near his shoulders and let him take control. “I hate your race so much! Make slaves of you all!” La'Damian growled. Samantha nodded, “Yes … fuck me … use me … I want to be a black man's slave!”
“You're a sex toy ...” La'Damian said before a growl. “... that's all you are ...” he finished.
Samantha nodded accepting her place as a “black man's sex object”. She laughed again and said, “I hate my fucking white race!” La'Damian pushed and pushed again.
“Fuck my pussy! Fuck my race!” Samantha cried out. She hoped Aggie could hear from the next room. Samantha looked into La'Damian's handsome face, so full of passion and rage. She gave up everything, her marriage and her self-respect to be fucked by a black man after black man. It felt so incredible she went into a violent orgasm shaking the tin walls that could be heard within nearby trailers. La'Damian cursed at himself. He had so much more to say to Samantha about her race. But there was little time. Samantha felt the splatter of hot goo, as thick as oatmeal, dump into her womb. Her eyes and mouth opened wide and she let out a silent cry. La'Damian just grunted and repeated over and over, “Fuck!”
La'Damian pulled out and leaped up stroking his semi-hard cock over Samantha's lips. She parted them wide and anxiously waited to be blessed with more of his nectar. But what was left of La'Damian's seed was thick dribble. Samantha was more than happy to suck him clean. La'Damian rolled over to the side of the bed and collapsed feeling spent and exhausted. Samantha laid beside him put her arms around him and cooed, “I just love being a sex object.”
But Aggie would have no more of Samantha's bullshit. She had walked in at the very end and saw Samantha eat cum like a filthy whore. “He's done with you, slut! Now, get the fuck out of my house!” she yelled.
Back at the car, Brett waited patiently drumming his fingers. He knew each minute he waited was another minute his wife was getting black dick and becoming a different woman. Brett was getting himself excited at the thought of Samantha making a habit of wanting and having sex with many different men. He squeezed his crotch. Nothing else made him aroused so easily.
Samantha stepped out of Aggie's trailer and felt the cool breeze on the front porch. With her appetite momentarily sated, she had a clear head. She looked at herself and how black cock made her dress like a whore. She remembered Brett, waiting for her at the car. Samantha scoffed at him. “What a cuck!” she thought to herself blaming him for the change in their marriage. Samantha took a deep breath and walked back.
As Samantha strolled back, she didn't notice the woman coming out of her trailer across from Aggie's. She was an attractive red-head in her thirties, barefoot, and wearing a bikini top and denim shorts. The red head stared at Samantha wondering if she had strolled out of La'Damian's house. She ran across and up to Aggie's door and helped herself and pulled the door open. She yelled inside, “La'Damian? Sweetie? What was that blonde doing here?” she wondered.
Samantha was half-way back to the car when she turned her head looking into the two trailers cramped together where the three teen girls smoked their cigarette. The girls were still there but knelt on the rocky ground behind that large garbage bin. Their whispers made Samantha too curious and she stopped dead in her tracks. She hoped she hadn't made too much noise and didn't want to be spotted.
There was a black teen male standing behind the bin. He was barely legal age, young but handsome. Samantha could only see his contorted face looking like he was in pain. The young man popped his eyes open and seethed. He would nod his head a couple times before seething again. Samantha was drawn in and approached the teens quietly.
Samantha began to hear hushed noises, “Hmmm … mmmmph, mmmmph, hmmm.” When she got closer she saw the blonde and brunette watching the red head move her head back and forth. “Oh, my gawd.” whispered the blonde while the brunette covered her mouth and shook her head.
Trying to conceal her presence, Samantha brushed against the far trailer wall as the red head scooted back and the blonde took her place. The three girls were trading turns sucking the teen's black cock. The brunette was the first to notice Samantha. It was only a second later so did the red head. They made room for Samantha giving her space to come near in between. Samantha dropped to her knees when the blonde finished her turn and wiped her lips. The brunette took her place and Samantha moved near.
Samantha enjoyed watching the cute teen approach with what was likely her first cock. She looked uneasy but committed. Samantha rubbed her breasts underneath her top and put her other hand on the brunette's head. “Don't be afraid.” she whispered. “Just put it in your mouth.” she added. The teen took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and tasted her first black dick. Back and forth she moved her head. She didn't gag or pull away afraid. With the slurping sounds, everyone understood she was enjoying the experience. Samantha was really pleased and gave a soft clap with her hands and whispered, “Yea!”
When the brunette felt she had her time, Samantha moved in and began her turn. The young man let out a soft moan as Samantha made a loud slurping sound at the risk of drawing more attention. She bobbed her head slowly then quick making arousing noises. The other three girls giggled, liking what they saw. The black teen bucked his hips. The first was subtle but the second was hard and forceful making Samantha gag. She responded by licking his balls that drew gasps from the other three at her slutty act. Samantha turned her head and curled her fingers to the red head. It was her turn again.
Each of the four girls made another round of cock sucking and ball licking. The black teen bucked his hips more forcefully with each showing he was in charge. The red head got on her feet and started kissing the young man's chest. He groped at her breasts and the red headed teen understood it was right for her to show her bare breasts to him. Below, Samantha took her third turn but had a black hand on her head. He grunted, bucked and his cock erupted mouthful of cum into Samantha's mouth. She immediately turned her head and shared an open mouthed kiss with the blonde.
The red head dropped to her knees and took the blonde by her chin and wanted a mouthful herself. Meanwhile, the petite, shy brunette backed away but Samantha wouldn't let her miss out on the fun. Samantha walked up to her and hypnotized the teen with her eyes. The bashful brunette was frozen as Samantha leaned in, parted her lips, and exchanged a passionate kiss with the taste of cum to share. Their tongues danced together. The teen gave a muffled whine but realized how erotic it made her feel.
Samantha turned her head to the young black man, who was panting and feeling relieved. “Tomorrow, you're fucking the red head.” she said. “Then the blonde ...” Samantha turned to the brunette, “... then you.” All the girls giggled, except the trembling brunette with her face blushed.
Brett was beginning to think Samantha had gone for a very long time. She must have been getting seriously fucked, he thought. His little racial justice warrior was gaining in confidence putting out for black men in trailer parks, seedy motels, and sex clubs. Brett was humbled at La'Damian's entitlement to fuck his wife again leaving him sexless. He remembered La'Damian was only 18 years old but had Samantha's attention. Maybe, Brett would see more of La'Damian and in the marriage bed.
Samantha caught Brett by surprise when she popped open the passenger door and hopped in. “Okay, let's go.” she said. Brett wanted to ask her a question but his wife was terse. “Don't make me ask again.” she sneered.
The drive home was very quiet without another word exchanged. Sam kept looking over at the corner of his eye at Samantha's crossed legs imagining how they were spread. His little penis started getting hard knowing she had put another black dick between those lips and made La'Damian feel more important. In presence of strong, sexually prowess black men, Brett felt insignificant.
When the couple returned to their own house nestled in the Meadow District it was well into the evening. Samantha headed straight to the bedroom and shower. Brett fumbled with his phone in the living room. He wanted Samantha to start telling details. He wanted to know how black men used her and the curiosity was making his penis ache. He foolishly felt, he was owed those details. Samantha returned from the shower dressed in her plush robe and had her hair up in a bun. She walked straight to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea to calm herself from a busy day of sex. Brett walked into the kitchen trying to find the courage to ask Samantha to open up about her black experiences. But Samantha stood in the corner staring out the window letting her tea get cold.
“Samantha?” Brett called out to her.
“We need to talk, Brett.” said Samantha rather coldly, “We need to talk about our marriage.”
Brett looked down and felt awkward and small. He cleared his throat and replied, “Okay.”
Samantha took a quick breath in through her nostrils and told him, “It's about our 'lifestyle'. I haven't been a good wife, lately. I've put more energy in having sex with … black men than working on our relationship.”
“What … what are you trying to tell me, Samantha?” Brett wondered.
Then Samantha blurted out, “I want a black boyfriend.”
Brett was stunned with silence. But his wife wasn't silent, “I need sex everyday, Brett. I prefer having it with the same man … two … three times a day, if necessary.”
“I see.” simply said her husband without making eye contact.
Samantha continued, “I'm more than willing to have sex with other black men for racial justice … a few times a week. You can even take me to the Black Bull Club … if my black boyfriend allows it.” Brett continued his silence and was starting to sweat from the neck up. Samantha grinned, “And one more thing, I think its best that I'm seen at The Black Power Movement with a black man. This is where having a black boyfriend would be best for everyone.”
Brett stuttered, “And … and where are you going to find a … boyfriend?” he spat out.
“The Black Power Movement can set me up on 'speed dates'. I'll meet three or four men a day and each date would end in sex. After a couple weeks or so, I would narrow the list and do another round of speed dates. I'm really wanting to be hooked up with a violent, ex-con.” said Samantha.
“An ex-con?” wondered Brett.
“Yes, violent!” Samantha said with a big smile. She took her warm, cup of tea and retreated to her bedroom complaining she was exhausted and looking forward to a long night's rest. Samantha pecked Brett on the cheek on her way out telling him, “Remember, I'm committed to black power.” She disappeared through the living room and to the hallway feeling liberated.
Brett's eyes popped open in the middle of the night. The guest bed wasn't as comfortable as his marriage bed he sadly discovered. He looked at his phone and saw it was a little after one in the morning. Through the bottom of his closed, bedroom door, he caught the light from the hallway lamp before it flickered off. Brett heard the distinctive sound of Samantha in her high heels … her walk through the kitchen and garage door … the garage door lifting … engine roaring … garage door dropping. Brett leaped out of bed and chased Samantha, already long gone, through the garage. She had taken the black sedan for another unannounced, late night trip.
Brett smelt the fragrance lingering in the room of his wife's most expensive perfume. He figured she was out hunting for a black boyfriend she wanted. Either way, he was confident she was scoring more dick. He returned to his bed, what else could he do? Brett stared into the ceiling and automatically began rubbing at this crotch. What was going through her head? He wished Samantha would have told him she was stepping out. Even teasing him about it. But it seemed she didn't him anymore.
Brett tried to fall asleep but his eyes popped open nearly an hour later. He began panting and dealing with a strange obsession. He was curious, aroused, and weirdly … heartbroken. He had to know what Samantha was up to? He had to know the details! Brett threw on clothes and took the white sedan for a late night trip into the darkest parts of Black Pine.
In his white sedan, Brett first drove to the Red Light District and The Black Bull Club. The club reported to be open 24 hours a day, including the private side. Off the district's “main street” where gentleman lounges and adult shops stood, Brett went down a narrow street past a burned down, abandoned pawn shop and a three-story transient hotel. Normally, there would be at least one prostitute walking up and down the alley. Being early Monday morning, they were all indoors. Brett drove into the Black Bull Club's lot. There were only two cars in the lot, both SUVs. He figured Samantha was not here.
Brett spun around and drove down main street looking at the few, parallel parked cars. They were few in front of the gentleman's club. But none of them belonged to Samantha. He left the district and headed towards The Black Power Movement headquarters. It wasn't too far away and he could see Samantha “volunteering” for a late night seminar practicing racial harmony. She did say the BPM would hook her up with many, good men to choose. He drove into the nearly abandoned parking lot save one beat up parking lot at the far end. Brett drove around back and it was deserted leaving only trash dumpster there. When he circled around the other end, he spotted a security guard dressed in the typical puffy, black jacket sneering at him. The guard took out his phone and tried aiming its camera at Brett's sedan. Brett's heart started racing and realized he wasn't welcomed and drove away spinning his tires on the pavement.
Brett made it through the stockyards, its nearby shuttered steel mill and the slaughter house. He headed to The Black Owned Motel. It would make sense for a late night hook up. He saw, lit up by the tungsten, eerie light over the motel's lot. The lot was a third full, more than Brett would have guessed. He took a parking spot near the entrance, far from the manager's office where he could look down at every room door from where he was sitting.
The first thing he did after turning off his lights and engine was making sure he wasn't spotted. He felt uncomfortable and paranoid after being spotted by The Movement security. As a white man, he felt frightened and afraid. Brett looked up and down the cars parked in front of the doors and …
There was the black sedan parked in front of room number “5”. It was Samantha's alright. The license plate sealed it. Brett felt like a fist had punched his stomach, a black fist. After the initial shock at Samantha's betrayal he kept starting at the door “5”. Five minutes went by, then then, fifteen. Brett pleaded then demanded the door to open. After thirty minutes it slowly opened and cast a pale, yellow light outside.
Stepping outside was a black man, large in size and is his thirties. He had a oversize short-sleeved shirt pulled over his waist. He stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the door looking content and satisfied. Following him was Samantha. She put an hand on his shoulder and wanted a kiss. Brett's wife was dressed in the shortest, tightest, blackest yoga shorts gripping her ass as tight as skin. Wearing an sleeveless halter crop top, it was just as black showing off her nice-sized breasts. In Samantha's high heels, also black, she looked like a prostitute.
“Oh, my gosh … she did it.” Brett mumbled to himself. His small penis hardened in the idea of another black man taking her and changing her. But her latest 'boyfriend' stepped away, and came a raven-haired woman dressed in an outfit as provocative and sexually inviting as Samantha's. The women smiled and hugged each other as if they were long friends. But Brett stomach dropped again when the women kissed. It wasn't a friendly kiss on the cheeks but full open mouth with hands groping each other. Brett couldn't look away as the women resumed talking to each other. They smiled, laughed, and chatted. The raven-haired prostitute took out a cigarette and started puffing on it.
Meanwhile, a European sports car pulled in front of Brett's modest sedan. The luxury car pulled into a spot in front of door “7”. It caught the attention of Samantha and her 'friend'. They both looked patiently waiting to see what sort of man would step out of such an expensive vehicle. A tall, black gentleman with long dreadlocks stepped out. From afar, he looked dressed in modest clothing, black jeans and a t-shirt. But they were high-end brands, costing more than any of Brett's suits. He sported a necklace as bright gold as his belt. The man-with-expensive-tastes approached the girls and smiled. Both Samantha and the raven-haired went to him, rubbing their hands on his muscular chest. They tried to seduce him by showing off their bodies. Samantha turned on her side. Brett read Samantha's lips, “Like that ass?” she asked. Samantha's friend jumped on her feet pleading, “Me! Me!” leaving the gentleman rub his chin.
Samantha proudly showed her sexual independence and Brett knew he could do nothing to stop it. The drama didn't last much longer as the man-with-expensive tastes took the raven-haired woman by her hand and walked towards the far end of the building. The girls gave each other a friendly goodbye wave leaving Samantha alone in the cold night.
Brett watched Samantha reach into a small purse, pulled out a cigarette, and a lighter. She lit one up and happily blew smoke up into the air. “Samantha doesn't smoke!” Brett deluded himself. But there she stood with one heel up, she leaned against the door frame, the door still open inviting anyone to visit. Brett couldn't resist and grabbed at his crotch. The more he realized he wasn't in control of his wife or marriage, the more it excited him. She never looked happier far from her husband, home, and a “white” married life.
Samantha's time to relax didn't last. A young black man, 20 years old, walked up to Samantha. In black slacks, a long sleeved blue-shirt and narrow tie. In his polished dress shoes, he looked humble and whispered to Samantha. He had a clean shaven face, almost innocent looking, with mannerisms suited for a choir. Samantha entertained the young gentleman rubbing his collar and pulling on his tie. He did most of the talking as Samantha nodded and mouthed, “... yes … sure ...”
The polite young man tried to get a reaction out of Samantha but she didn't say another word and only politely smiled. When he pulled a couple bills out of his pocket, Samantha grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into the room and closed the door. Brett let out a hot gasp of air that nearly winded him. He didn't recognize his wife anymore. But he understood she belonged here and it was time for him to drive home, alone.
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section.
