Reluctant Wife Gives it Up Part 6
This is the sixth chapter of faithful, pious housewife transforming into a progressive, sexual submissive for black men. What started with a conversation how to accommodate black power with her husband, had changed their marriage forever.
Isiah was known
for his quiet voice, respectful mannerisms, and his charity. He was a young, black man of twenty and was very polite. The members of the community considered him an upstanding citizen and praised him for resisting sin unlike other black males of his age. However, in the early hours of Monday morning, after a day of church and choir, his masculine desires were too great to ignore. He stood naked in the middle of one of the rooms at the Black Owned Motel. With clothed dropped to his ankles, he had chosen a white girl to act out his carnal desires. Isiah promised he would beg forgiveness later.
Samantha would be his lover that hour. She was on her knees, naked and rubbing her breasts against his manhood making it erect and hard with desire. Grabbing it with her hand, she stroked it up and down sending shivers of pleasure through Isiah he did not understand.
“You need your dick sucked, don't you?” Samantha asked with a smile.
Isiah could only nod, feeling embarrassed.
Samantha lowered her head and began giving the young, black man what he needed. Isiah started breathing heavy and his guilt he felt wanting sex soon evaporated. He started bucking his hips, “Evil … evil white whore!” he told her. Samantha didn't object nor stop servicing her black lover. She was a hole to him and she accepted her obligation. The motel was a place where white women served black masters their bodies. Samantha licked his balls and told him, “You can have anything you want, baby! You're black.” Isiah stretched his head to the ceiling wanting to scream or moan, he couldn't make up his mind. When Samantha put his cock back into her wet mouth, he put a hand on her head and bucked his hips again. He wondered how many blow jobs she had given and guess it was a very high number. Isiah assumed Samantha must have seduced many good black men in the community. Maybe some of the members from his church, the slut! The gentleman inside of him yearned to love, at least respect, the woman he was having sex with. But he shook that off thinking what a tramp Samantha was. After all, it only took a short conversation and a couple bills to convince the pretty, white girl out of her panties. “Suck my cock!” he muttered. The aggressive, black man inside him demanded.
When Samantha got on all fours on the bed, she lowered head and stayed motionless. She arched her back and presented her ass to Isiah. “My pussy's ready for you, sweetie!” she told him. Isiah grabbed his cock by its base. It was up to him to be man. This was why he was there late at night. He needed pussy and wanted a white girl. Isiah was envious of his friends, cousins, and role models who had white girls tripping over themselves to experience black cock.
Isiah's “other head” was thinking for him now. He took a good look at Samantha's bare pussy. The white girl meant nothing to him but she had that pussy between her legs his cock screamed for. He looked down and saw his cock slick with Samantha's spit from her greedy, dirty mouth. Isiah looked at Samantha again as she waited quietly. Her lips parted and he imagined she could still taste his cock in her mouth. Isiah shook his head, he could wait no more. He stepped forward and rubbed his cock against Samantha's pussy and pushed in.
“Geezus! Gawd! Ugh … ugh!” grunted Isiah not sounding like the good, polite member of the choir. Samantha panted sounded like she was struggling to take his organ. Isiah showed no sympathy to her other than grabbing her hips before reaching further with his left to grab a tit. Isiah grunted and lunged ahead like and started humping and grinding like an animal.
“Oh, fuck!” screamed Samantha being dominated by the younger man. She felt Isiah push and push and quickly becoming a strong, assertive man thanks to her encouragement. But she had to stay in her submissive position feeling him take control. Isiah grunted angrily venting his frustrations he was responsible putting on himself.
Samantha moaned and Isiah loved it. He was “fucking” a white woman, blacking her, making her a race traitor. Fuck white people! He loved how powerful he felt with his manhood pushed inside a tight womb. Isiah discovered he had a masculine ego and he embraced it. He promised it he would have more white pussy in his life!
“You like fucking that white pussy, huh?” Samantha asked in a stupor. Her young lover only replied with primal grunts. Isiah understood what white girls were good for as his friends told him. He was was going to fuck, dump his precious seed inside of her, and leave her behind. This is what they are good for. This was the only thing they were trusted to be.
“Yeah! Yeah! Fuck my race!” said the blonde betraying her people.
“Ugh! Agh! … Fuck!” yelled Isiah. He felt it. He felt it coming. An eruption of sticky, thick, semen out of his organ and into deep into Samantha's pussy. Isiah was too naive to understand the meaning behind what a “cum dumpster” was. Until that moment.
“Yeeeeeowww!” screamed Samantha, shaking the walls of the room.
Brett's eyes popped open and his heart raced.
Was that a dream he experienced? Visions of Samantha turning a good, quiet black man into a raging sex machine is what he remembered seeing in his head. He kept mumbling to himself, “Oh, my gawd. Oh, my gawd.” he felt his life was sliding out of control. With all the discussions about black men fucking his wife, he started to believe he and Samantha was becoming obsessed over it. Did he really see Samantha trolling the motel lot for men? Or was it his imagination?
It was Monday morning and Brett' felt miserably tired with the poor night's sleep. He wondered if Samantha returned home? If she wasn't, it would settle that it wasn't a dream. Brett quietly looked down the hall and saw Samantha's door closed when he remembered it was left open earlier. But he chose to inspect the garage first. Both sedans were parked side by side, the black next to the white. He even looked out in front of the house to see if any strange cars were parked in the street or driveway. If the owner of the car were in his master bedroom, he would want a hint before it was too late. But there was no strange cars parked. All was left was to check on Samantha.
Brett sneaked back into the hall towards the master bedroom door. Was Samantha sleeping alone? Brett had to know. He first put his ear to the door listening for heavy breathing or creaks from the box spring. Brett put his hand on the door handle and gave it a little nudge. It gave in. The door bolt snapped out of its strike plate and Brett squeezed his eyes shut hoping he didn't give himself away. He peered inside.
Samantha was lying on her side facing away from the door. Her blonde hair was messy. By her bare shoulders, she was sleeping at least topless. With a black g-string dropped on the floor, she may have been naked as well. But Samantha was alone. Brett closed the door and felt unwanted. He decided to return to his room and masturbate before calling in sick.
It was 3:00 pm when Samantha finally emerged from her bedroom. Showered and refreshed, she was wearing a comfortable shirt and plush pajama pants when she was startled in the living room. Samantha didn't expect to see Brett home. She let out a surprised, “Oh!” when Brett looked up and closed his laptop cover.
“Hi, dear.” said Brett. “How did you sleep?” he asked.
Samantha sat down far across the room, purposely keeping her distance. “I slept … good.” she answered, “You're working from home?”
“I'm taking a day off.” Brett explained.
Samantha just nodded already feeling impatient. Her mind drifted and was already rubbing her knees together. Brett wasn't subtle and came out and asked his wife, “How is your hunt for a black boyfriend coming?”
“It's … going. Very well, actually. It will take some time but I need to do this.” Samantha answered while rubbing her knees together.
Brett took an encouraging tone, “It will be good for you to have a strong black man in your life. It will be a symbol of racial reconciliation.”
Samantha felt awkward discussing the topic so openly. But she wasn't going to discourage him, “Um, yeah. When he's in our marriage bed, we'll be doing a lot … fighting racism. I hope it will happen often.” she said.
“Well, I want to help. I've set you up on a … date.” said Brett.
Samantha raised her eye brows. “You did what?”
Brett explained he had consulted The Black Power Movement through text messages and emails. He said the Movement was very accommodating with sharing black culture with married, white women. Brett said her “meet up” would be ready with as little as one hour notice and the room was reserved and paid for at Black Paradise Hotel. Brett added the room was an “executive suite”, spacious, with a separate bedroom, and very expensive.
Samantha felt flattered and comfortable hooking up in a high end hotel. “So, are you interested?” Brett asked. Samantha crossed her legs and looked off to the side. “You really want me to do this?” she asked.
Brett looked like a man defeated, “Black men want this. I think you want this too.”
Samantha responded with a serious “Let's find me a black boyfriend. I trust The Black Power Movement to make decisions with my life. I can't wait.” She stood and told Brett, “Tell him I'll be ready in two hours.” before heading back to her bedroom. But Samantha stopped at the edge of the living room and looked over her shoulders to her husband and asked, “Will sex be part of the date?”
Brett looked down again and answered, “Yes, if you want.”
Samantha was satisfied and disappeared down the hall. For Brett, it would be a long two hour wait. Back in Samantha's bedroom, she closed the door behind her, undressed and stood in front of her mirror naked. She studied herself from her hair, breasts, and her ass hoping her date would approve of her. Samantha then picked up her phone and sent out a text.
“sry, canceling, I'll make it up 2 u!” Samantha then casually put down the phone and tended to her hair.
Samantha walked out
in tight, denim shorts and the last of her crop top. Her top was an off-white and she chose flat high heeled sandals. She figured she would need more clothes suitable for a lifestyle she was embracing. It may cost several hundreds, if not a couple thousand dollars. But she didn't care. Brett was waiting for her in the living room trying not to pass out from the excitement. Samantha silently walked into the garage and was only interested in being taken to the hotel located in the Civic Zone.
The tallest building in the district, the hotel was once known as White Pine Paradise Hotel. But with the election of the city's first black mayor, it renamed itself to Black Paradise and hosted Mayor Sweet's inauguration ball. While it since attracted new clientele, it was an upstanding place where the black elite came to play and be seen.
“Tell me about my date.” said Samantha and were her first words in the car with Brett. Brett cleared his throat and answered, “I was told he's a very important member of the community. I know little else other than he enjoys married, white women.”
“No age? Not even a name?” Samantha wondered.
“He wants to introduce himself there. I was told.” Brett said. Samantha found that very interesting. Brett looked over at Samantha's legs again and dreamed how they would be spread for an entire evening.
After parking the sedan, Brett explained to Samantha that he was to escort her to the room before leaving them alone. The couple entered the lobby and walked straight to the elevators. The room was located at a higher floor and Samantha was getting nervous. Brett couldn't take his eyes off of his wife's body knowing she would be naked and on her knees in minutes. He was getting an erection right in the elevator car. Samantha tapped her feet and was extremely impatient waiting for the car to reach its floor.
The elevator stopped. The ding, “dinged” and Brett and Samantha stepped out. Brett led his wife to the farthest end of the hall near the stairs. It would have the largest room on the floor with most privacy, as requested. When they reached the door and Brett was about to knock, Samantha pleaded by saying, “Wait.” Brett looked. Maybe, she had a change of heart. But Samantha only wanted to straighten her hair and look after her clothes. She took a deep breath and said, “Ready.”
KNOCK-KNOCK rapped Brett's knuckles on the door.
In a few seconds the handle swiveled, the door opened, and tall black man made his appearance. He was tall, slender, and attractive and introduced himself, “Hello, Samantha. My name is Kojo.”
Kojo spoke in an African accent that impressed and swooned Samantha. Samantha nearly giggled and let Kojo take her right hand to give it a gentle kiss. But soon Kojo looked deep into Samantha's eyes and saw a women who needed an African's attention. He leaned in and kissed her with open mouth in front of her husband. When their lips parted, he complimented her, “Your outfit pleases me.” He took Samantha by the hand and said, “Please come.” he insisted. Samantha wouldn't take her eyes off of the African. She was already in love and ready for a night of passionate sex. But in a heartbeat, every would change.
Kojo led her to the front room, complete with expensive furniture, lamps, and a big screen TV. When she stepped in the middle of the room, she had noticed more men waiting for her. They were standing quietly near the wall waiting for their white girl to come in from the door. Samantha counted … one, two, three, four. With Kojo, that was five. The four men approached her and began pawing at her body, fondling her ass and breasts and running their hands through their hair.
Startled, Samantha called out, “Brett? Did you know about this?”
“It's okay, Samantha. Just do what they want. They're Africans … migrants from Africa!” Brett reassured her. Samantha was kept busy kissing a migrant. Then she kissed another. Clothes started coming off and pants dropped to the floor. As African dicks sprang out, Samantha was only starting to realize what she was about to experience. Brett stared at his wife who was standing with her back to him. She was made topless and dropped to knees in front of one African and reached out with her right hand to grab a cock of another. Kojo walked past Brett and put his hand on his puny shoulder. “Go home, white boy. We'll send her back when we're done.”
Brett turned towards the door but not without one final look at his wife. Through a wall of black, masculine flesh all he could make out was the back of Samantha's bobbing head.
Brett's night at home
was one of loneliness, excitement, and guilt. He kept staring at his phone waiting for Samantha to call or text. Four hours had passed and Brett's stomach felt it was a size of a golf ball. He had no appetite. Brett spent the evening sitting in the living room couch, still in his clothes, waiting to jump into his car and pick up his wife. Between staying up late the night before and the excitement setting up his wife on her date, his exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep.
…
…
“Wake up!”
…
…
Brett opened his eyes and saw a blurry vision of his smiling wife who knelt on the carpet to look at him. “Wake up, honey.” said Samantha. She returned fully dressed in her denim shorts and crop top.
Realizing he had fallen asleep and left his wife behind he snapped himself out of his grogginess, “Samantha! You're back, I was ...”
“Shhhhh...” said Samantha, “I found my way back home.”
“Are you … are you alright?” Brett asked.
“I'm fine, dear.” Samantha assured speaking in a calm voice. She grinned at Brett who was looking guilty. “You knew about the five Africans, didn't you?”
Brett meekly nodded his head and asked, “Are you mad at me?”
Samantha calmly answered, “No, I'm not mad.” After a momentary pause, she told him, “I'm a slut … but that's what you wanted all along?”
Brett nodded again, just as meek, but just as honest. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked.
Samantha put her hand on Brett's cheek and said, “This isn't what I wanted for myself or our marriage. But what's done is done. I'm addicted to black cock … and ... I don't want to be cured. I only want to get fucked.” She then put her palm on Brett's crotch and felt the feeble hardness there. “I see you wanted this ...” she told him and went on to say, “... wanted to ruin our marriage to see a few black cocks put inside your wife. … My gawd. What a race traitor you are too.”
Samantha stood and with a little sorrow on her face began to undress for her husband. She went on and lectured him, “Our marriage is ruined forever, Brett … but I don't mind. As long as I get what I want.” Samantha stood naked in front of her speechless husband. Samantha put her hands on her hips and confessed, “This is the last night I'm sleeping alone. I'm going to fuck whoever I want when I want.”
When Brett didn't immediately respond, Samantha stepped up and raised his chin with her left hand. “I love black cock.” she confessed. She saw how her words aroused Brett. Samantha snickered at him, “You feel good hearing that, don't you? More than … 'I love you'. Well, I … love … black … cock. … Yeah, saying it makes me feel good too.”
Samantha snickered at Brett and stepped away to fiddle through her purse. She pulled out a cigarette and a lighter and lit up in front of her husband. Samantha had a disgusted smile on her face and shook her head as she blew blue smoke to her ceiling. Brett just silently stared at Samantha's naked figure. “Don't think that I didn't catch you staring at me at the motel. I saw you sitting in the car.” said Samantha, “Did you masturbate like a loser while black men paid to fuck me?”
Samantha kept looking at her husband with disdain and disappointment out of both marital and racial reasons. She smashed her cigarette into the fine wooden coffee table and said, “The Africans fucked my every hole. They called me dirty names and yet I promised my body to them, Africa, and all black men. I never had so much spunk. … And I need more! ”
Brett saw the raw, sexual energy his wife was showing. Black men, its culture, its power took hold of her. More than he could ever imagined. Samantha noticed Brett was staring at her shaven bare pussy as milky liquid ran down her inner thighs. “You like my pussy?” she teased him and rubbed it with her right hand. “Mmmm? All it needs is a tattoo. What do you think? How about one that says 'black cock slut'?”
Samantha teased Brett with an evil laugh. “Now, I want to ruin our relationship a little more. I really want to fuck up our marriage with no going back, okay?” she said with a smile looking for Brett's approval. Brett, powerless, just nodded. Samantha pushed Brett flat on his back on the couch and climbed up over him pushing her pussy into his face.
“Eat my cunt.” she whispered. “Taste black cum.” Samantha pushed her pussy, dripping wet with the semen of five, virile Africans against Brett's nose. The smell was overpowering and indescribable. It was the fragrance of sex, lust, power, and filth. With what little masculinity and pride Brett had left, he couldn't resist very long. The pussy in his face had given in the needs of several sexually aggressive males. That naturally clicked in his head and his penis stiffened. He opened his mouth feeling Samantha's swollen clit rub against his lips. Brett didn't have to wait to notice the flavor hitting his tongue. Samantha let out a gasp of joy before a long moan when she felt a tongue dig inside. She squeezed her breasts simply because it made her feel good and she ground her pussy into Brett's face.
“Oh, fuck! Cuckold! You fucking cuckold!” Samantha cursed and she started bouncing on Brett's face.
Knowing Brett had willingly accepted his place in the marriage, Samantha sat on the couch and made herself comfortable. She spread her legs wide with her knees pulled back. Brett knelt on the floor and buried his head in between her thighs. He lapped at her wet, used pussy. Brett tolerated, even enjoyed, the taste of black conquest of his wife and marriage. Samantha was enjoying herself. She ran her fingers through Brett's hair showing her pleasure. Brett felt relief but understood there were limits to healing their relationship. This was the price, and the taste, of black power. When Samantha had enough of Brett, she put her legs together over his head, swung her ass to the side and popped to her feet. She stormed off to her bedroom without a word to her 'husband'.
Tuesday morning
and Brett got an email he wished he wouldn't have. Reading it on his phone, it came from management. He missed too many days and working from home, let alone another sick day, was unacceptable. Brett had to balance his professional life with his personal one, now re-adjusted for racial justice. He pitied himself while he took a shower, shaved, and dressed. Brett walked out of the hallway bathroom and towards the living room.
There. He saw them.
Samantha was naked, on her knees next to a standing, naked African. She looked so vulnerable in front of such a tall and strong man. Samantha happily sucked cock and made cute, short moans with each bob of her head. Brett saw so much love and devotion in his wife's eyes locked on the African.
The African's name was Matata. He was a tall, handsome man of 25 years-old. Matata had his hands on Samantha's head and returned moans of pleasure. His manly groans were so deep it shook the ceramic mementos rested on shelves. Matata looked pleased yet impatient. He bucked his hips using his cock, nearly 10 inches and thick as a weapon reminding Samantha who was in charge.
Brett looked to his left, on the couch was Kojo. Kojo was on his back, naked as well, with a woman bobbing her head over his lap. It was Susan, their neighbor. Brett gasped. He long secretly imagined what Susan looked like without her clothes. Now Brett could see what kind of woman she was with a black man. Susan spat on Kojo's cock, licked his balls, and continued giving him his blow job. Brett also saw what sort of man it took to get Susan out of her panties.
“Your white boy is watching.” muttered Matata. Samantha slurped her mouth off of his black cock and turned to Brett. She gave him an unemotional and un-amused look. Samantha turned her attention back to Matata. She looked up to the African and whispered, “I love African cock.” before returning his organ into her mouth.
Matata put his right hand behind Samantha's head and gave her a good buck of his hips, “Serve our tribe. We take what we want.” he told her. Samantha responded with an approving moan and squeezing her left breast. Matata looked to the strange, unwelcomed white man in the room. The confident African told Brett, “Take off your clothes white boy. Watch us turn your women into whores.”
However, Brett did not show the African respect. Brett stood there speechless watching his wife serving a black man in his house. Foolish Brett, didn't understand it wasn't his house anymore. Disgusted by Brett's act of intolerance, Matata stepped back and pulled his cock out of Samantha's mouth. Brett's stupidity denied Samantha the taste of black cock she needed. Samantha was startled, having been cut-off from her responsibilities and obligations to her lover.
Offended, Matata marched over, his massive, erect dick swung beneath. The African grabbed Brett by his shirt collar as Samantha complained, “Show some fucking respect! They're Africans! They're better than you!”
Even Susan was broken out of her sexual trance, “Is he being racist, Sam?” she asked. Brett was paralyzed by Matada's physical size not to mentioned Brett greatly intimidated by Matada's naked body. The African gave Brett a playful slap with his left hand. When Brett didn't flinch or defend himself, he got another. But the second time was much harder.
SLAP!
“Obey, cuckold!” Matada told him before grabbing his shirt by the top button and ripping it apart. “Get out of clothes or I beat you!” he warned Brett. Samantha covered her mouth with her left hand but rubbed her pussy with her right. “Oh, fuck! White boy, gawd-damnit! Do what he says!“
Brett bit his lip to keep him from crying. The fear of getting pummeled in his own house, in front of his own wife, was emotionally wrecking him. He sniffled and hurried out of his ripped shirt, pants, and underwear leaving him standing with only socks and a little, tiny white prick.
Matada took a seat on the couch and pointed at Samantha then pointed at his cock. Samantha walked over on her knees and grabbed the African's organ. She looked over to her naked cuckold, “Now, I can show you what I think of our marriage. Are you watching? Watch!” Samantha kept her eyes on Brett but her mouth went over Matada's cock.
“Mmmmmph, mmmmmph, tch-chuck, mmmmmph ...” from Samantha's mouth. Brett's energy drained from his body and soul as he saw Samantha descend to the deepest depravity in front of him. He only imagined what his wife was with her black lovers. Now he saw from himself. While his heart ached, his cock sprang to attention. It approved of the stronger men in the room getting pussy.
“White boy, you will see this everyday!”, Matata told Brett. Samantha spat on the head of the black organ, “Fuck our race! Just fuck us!” she celebrated before licking Matata's balls. Brett looked over to the other couch where Susan sat with her ankles high in the air. Kojo put his head between her thighs and used his tongue on Susan's pussy. Susan was having difficulty holding back her moans and kept motionless as possible giving Kojo free access to her body for his pleasure came first.
Samantha made loud, erotic, almost obnoxious sounds using her mouth over Matata's black dick. She was in love with it and started smacking her face with it and giggling. Her laughter was like shoving broken glass into Brett's face. His wife looked so happy and devoted on her knees. She looked to Matata and put her hands together as if praying, “Please.” she whispered to him. Matata turned over and put his knees on the cushions and looked over the edge of the couch.
With Matata's ass in Samantha's face, Brett cringed as he watched Samantha first stroke Matata's cock from behind. It was apparent by its large size and thickness, it was meant for sexual penetration, fucking … breeding. Samantha looked at Brett again, “Now, I'm going to show what I think of you!” she scolded. Brett squeezed his diminished testicles when he saw Samantha put her tongue in the black man's ass and started licking and lapping like a dirty, filthy tramp. With Samantha's muffled voice, she said “This is where the white race belongs!” Matata reacted with only assured confidence and entitlement. To him, Samantha was where a white girl belonged, sexual servitude to him and his race.
Samantha pulled her face out and whipped to Brett, “You're not watching? Are you racist? Aren't you happy for the black man?”
“Watch, white boy!” growled Matata without making the effort to look at him. Brett shifted his eyes and watched Samantha kiss up and down the black skin on Matata's ass. Samantha smiled and rubbed her pussy. “You can have everything! Anything I have belongs to black men!” she told Matata. She couldn't stop herself and licked more ass. Samantha existed to be used by the black race and its men. The African migrants, having traveled so far, endured so much, with no money or work-skills compatible with modern, Western age were more important than anything in Samantha's life.
“Lick ass, tribal slut!” said Matata.
Brett stroked his penis. That's all he could do. He watched for several more minutes as both his wife, and Susan on the next couch, were licking ass of Africans. It was a ritual in pleasure, power, and tribal bonding. Matata took a seat on the couch and lifted his muscular, long legs high. He laid back comfortably as awkward as it looked. But he liked seeing Samantha's nose into the bottom of his heavy balls. Samantha looked into Matata's eyes with a racial, angry look. She wasn't a lady but a whore, slut, and race traitor. Samantha mumbled to her husband, “I'd sooner eat black ass than love you!”
Samantha rubbed her breasts across Matata's cock up and down. She turned to Brett again, wanting to berate him. He deserved it, she felt. This is what you wanted, honey! You wanted me to go black!” Her husband could only look into the corner but his eyes betrayed him and stared back at the race-conquering, pornographic sight of an African owning his wife like property.
Matata got up wanting Samantha to get on all fours on the couch. He stepped behind her, making Samantha raise her ass to him. Matata put a hard slap across Samantha's white ass, “SLAP!”, making her yelp in delight. “Watch, white boy!” said Samantha, “This is how our race dies!” She shut her eyes feeling the girth of Matata's demanding, black organ. Samantha gritted her teeth and grunted, “... fuck … FUCK .. FUCK!” feeling the cock penetrate her. She cursed and slapped a hand on the cushion in front of her, “I'm getting fucked by Africans … again!” At the other couch, Susan had climbed on top of Kojo. She lowered her toned, bubble-shaped ass and moaned to the ceiling when Kojo's cock went inside her. The two couples began thrusting and pushing male organs deep into wombs as often and forceful as possible.
Brett, the fifth useless wheel, stood and watched the four mate. He listened to them groan. He never saw Samantha so controlled … and happy. Samantha's deep exhales and muffled groans were never shared when he was inside her. Brett was left out, excluded, and forgotten. But he pulled on his penis anyway.
“Kneel here, white boy!” Matata said to Brett, pointing to the floor next to Samantha. Brett looked to the floor in shame. His “manhood” could not compare to Matata's. The African's voice was deep, powerful, yet strangely compassionate. When Brett's white knees hit the carpet, Matata told him, “Your wife wants nothing from you.” the African said of Samantha as he lunged his loins into her white pussy, “She only wants this, black cock.”
Brett saw how euphoric Samantha was. Her eyes were crossed and drool ran down her chin. She cocked her head a little back each time Matata pushed his cock deep inside her. Brett stood inches away from his wife who did not notice nor care. Matata grunted feeling content and rightfully satisfied for the moment.
A slap came across Samantha's ass. Matata told Brett, “She belongs to our people. Your marriage means nothing to her.” Brett studied Samantha close. Her fingers clutched the cushions beneath her. She bit her lower lip as she begun rolling her eyes. Brett saw how her titties were bouncing back and forth with each powerful thrust her African lover was giving her. “Fu .. fuc … fuck me ...” Samantha whispered.
Brett took a deep breath through his nostrils and pleaded with her, “Is this … is true, Samantha? Does our marriage mean nothing to you now?” But Samantha did not answer, she kept with her steady breathing as every inch of a black, African organ penetrated her. Matata slapped her ass again, “Tell him!” he ordered.
Samantha turned to her husband, looking *****. She grinned, proud to share with him, “Yes. It's true. I'm a whore for Africans.” Samantha wanted to say more but the intrusive, filling feeling took her attention away for something more important. She buried her face into the cushions and let out an orgasmic moan. Brett pulled on his dick hearing Samantha groan a second time. As her lover continued on a steady, confident pace, Samantha looked up and stared into Brett's eyes and simply whispered in a teasing voice. “Fuck … our ... marriage!” Stunned, Brett fell backwards on his knees while Samantha rolled her eyes again and put her mind on the black cock inside of her.
Matata slapped Samantha's ass again, showing pleasure in her conversion. “Don't cry. She's only a slut.” he told Brett. Samantha giggled and rolled her eyes again. Matata pulled out and smacked her ass with his black, meaty dick. He instructed her to get on her knees. She was unworthy to sit on the couch. The African pointed as his loins, “Worship this. Worship the fruits of Africa.”
Samantha licked Matata's balls before running her tongue up his shaft and started sucking his cock again. Brett scooted back and looked away not recognizing his wife anymore. “Tell your husband what you swore to us yesterday, Samantha, whore for Africa!”
Samantha kissed the tip of the African cock and smacked her tongue with it. She looked into the African's eyes without care of her disheveled nearby. “I disavow my race, my marriage, my religion for Africans and all black men!” She lowered her head and filled her mouth with Matata's hard cock, showing her devotion to him.
“Mmmmph! Mmmmph! Mmmmph!” slurped Samantha with a right hand cupping Matata's testicles. Brett looked up and witnessed how much of a black cock slut Samantha had transformed into. He was in awe of the black man! Samantha freed her mouth from cock to laugh at her husband. But she felt he was unworthy of another word from her. Instead, she gently pushed Matata's shaft with her palm against his abdomen and spat on his balls. She smiled at them and put one into her mouth. Brett turned his head. He was too jealous!
Matata's grabbed Brett by his hair and made him look. “Don't turn away, white fucker!” So, Brett was made to look as his wife took Matata's cock back into her mouth. Brett could read his wife's mind as he and Samantha exchanged looks.
“This is our future, enslaved by the black man.” Samantha spoke to Brett with her eyes.
Matata instructed Samantha to lay on her back on the couch and spread her legs. Samantha said to Matata, “I can't believe I married a white man.” When her African lover penetrated her again with his dark spear, Samantha whined and moaned.
“No rights for your kind. Just be fucked.” said Matata. Samantha agreed, “No rights for us. Fuck us to extinction!” Matata turned to Brett and laughed. He made sure the sorry, white husband saw how black cock was pushing deep into Samantha's womb.
Brett wiped his forehead. He also saw Kojo, at the other couch, pull on Susan's blonde hair as fucking her doggy-style. Kojo grunted, holding his free hand into the air in a fist. Kojo celebrated Africa with Matata and their conquest of married, white and affluent women. Kojo made Susan beg, “I live for black cock! I live for Africa!” she pledged. Meanwhile, Samantha arched her back and went into another orgasm. Her hate for her race was complete. The orgasms were too powerful and she accepted her addiction. She would do everything necessary to have black men in her life.
Matata grabbed Samantha by her ankles and let out a deep grunt and uttered, “This is your place, slut.” Samantha moaned while biting her right forefinger and blankly stared into the ceiling. The look on her face reflected absolute submission and surrender to black power. Matata roared again and Samantha matched him with a squeal. Samantha felt a splash of hotness and liquid fullness inside of her. Matata lunged forward a couple more times before he pulled out of her swollen pussy. The African released Samantha's ankles and got up and walked away into the hallway. Brett saw Samantha's place was being a cum-dump. She laid there on her back, legs spread, panting.
“We're so fucked ...” Samantha whispered to herself and felt like laughing. She wanted to mock everything she had believed in. Her marriage vows, her white privilege, and her religion … now meant nothing. She was a servant to the black man and their sexual needs. Samantha turned to her cuckold and demanded from him, “Eat my pussy!”
Brett, however, didn't immediately move. That made her upset and she made sure he knew it. “Listen, asshole!” she barked, “If you don't come here and eat this spunk, I'll kick you out of the house and divorce you!” Brett, humbled and stripped off his white ego, wobbled on his knees to his destiny. Stripped of clothes, ego, and toxic, white pride, he took a deep breath and lowered his head and began swiping at Samantha's dripping, sloppy pussy with his tongue. Feeling his warm tongue scoop up cum from a real man, Samantha giggled. “This is where you belong in a black man's world.” She said to him and was in disbelief how low Brett was as a man undeserving of respect. Samantha said to herself, “I love black power.” she whispered. Samantha was proud of herself. She pleased an African and smashed white masculinity to it knees.
Meanwhile, Kojo slapped Susan across her ass before wrapping his left arm around her waist. He moaned and pumped his loins. Kojo leaned forward and whispered into Susan's ear, “Africa will fuck you. You will love it.” The African wanted to see his white girl / black-cock slut eat his seed. It would be a beautiful act of acceptance seeing her swallow his African pride and make it a part of her blacked life. Kojo stepped back and pumped his cock with his fist as Susan went to her knees with her mouth greedily open. Kojo's body jerked as thick cum splattered out of the tip of his cock into Susan's mouth. When he was finished, Susan closed her eyes and sealed her lips. But she could only hold her passion for a couple seconds. Susan parted her lips and let out a gargled groan. Should she swallow? Or should she continue to taste Kojo's flavor of masculinity inside her mouth. Kojo smacked Susan's face with his satisfied organ. “Fine white girl.” he said to her.
Susan walked over to her friend and opened her mouth over Samantha's. Drools of semen, sperm, and spit dropped on Samantha's tongue with some gel landed on her lips and chin. Samantha put a kind hand on Susan's breast as she accepted her gift. Kojo, standing near the other couch, looked proud and stroked his aching cock. Samantha's and Susan's lips met in a hot, sloppy kiss with cum running down each other's chins. Their tongues swam in the sticky, organic mess each had in their mouths. Both girls swallowed. They couldn't resist and laughed with each other.
Samantha whispered into Susan's ear, “Throw my husband's suits on the bed in the guest room and have Matata fuck you on top of them.” Susan giggled, more so at Brett. She couldn't resist and went down the hall to find Matata. Samantha then sat up and lifted Brett's head by his hair and put her lips on his. The couple engaged in a soulless, mechanical kiss without marital passion. Brett realized Samantha wanted to feed him more cum. He couldn't take more and pulled back coughing wondering if he will ever get that taste out of his mouth.
Samantha chuckled, “You know you love it … just as you love the idea that I'll never let you fuck me again.” Brett wiped his lips, looked down and said nothing. Samantha giggled again, “You have the wife you always wanted. Selfish, sex hungry and … black owned.” Kojo walked over to Samantha and rubbed his cock against her face. She didn't need another hint. Samantha turned her head and starting sucking on Kojo's cock. Kojo seethed needing that feeling of a warm mouth over his manhood. “Suck my cock, slut.” he told her as he bucked his hips. Samantha didn't resist or argue if she was a slut or not.
Brett stood and watched as he “rubbed one out” and came into the palm of his other hand. Kojo looked over and made a gesture by cupping his hand to his mouth. “Eat.” Kojo told Brett. Brett did what he was told and ate his own semen from his own hand. Noticing her husband, Samantha turned to him, “You can go now.”
Picking up his clothes, including his torn shirt, Brett headed to his bedroom where Matata and Susan were fucking on top of his clothes. On her back, Susan wrapped her legs around Matata and begged him “not to stop”. The African continued his steady thrusts and pushed his manhood deep inside her. Brett had to rummage through the hamper looking for anything worthy for the office. With the sounds and scenes of sex, the Africans had control of his house and the women inside. Brett wore his wrinkled, dirty clothes to work hours late. This would be too much for his managers and was fired that morning.
Sunday morning,
and Samantha walked out of her bedroom dressed in her “Sunday best”. Brett, sitting at the kitchen table, was at his laptop sending out resumes and writing one desperate cover letter after another. Brett hadn't seen much of his wife since that Tuesday. She had been spending much of the days and nights out of the house. By the expensive receipts piling up, Samantha had bought more outfits for her nightly visits to the Motel. They were going quickly into debt.
When Samantha walked through the kitchen fidgeting with her earrings, Brett was taken back, if not a little bit relieved, with her decent wardrobe. “You're going into church?” he asked, curious since she proudly disavowed her “racist, oppressive” beliefs.
Samantha smiled devilishly, “Oh, yeah! What better place to recruit some white girls?” She then showed unusual curiosity in her husband, “How's the job hunting coming along?”
Brett tried to make the best of it, hiding the real difficulty for a white male to be taken seriously in the city. “It's coming.” he said, “I have some opportunities … a few.” Samantha nodded once but didn't show any real sympathy. She grabbed a large bag filled with outfits better suited for her lifestyle after church. “After church, I'm going to pay reparations at the Movement.” Samantha told her cuckold, “Then, I have 'dates' with the migrants before I hang out at the motel.”. Samantha snickered and walked into the garage.
Brett returned to his laptop after hearing Samantha drive away. However, he couldn't resist the cravings. He rubbed his knees together in an awkward, clumsy attempt to give his testicles attention. Brett rubbed them with his left palm as the fingers of his right hand fumbled at the keyboard. He closed his windows and brought up his favorite porn sites for interracial videos. Images of black dick after black dick relieved his hunger as they took prominence in front of feminine, white skin in their beautiful curves. Brett wiped his forehead, already starting to sweat in the excitement. He scrolled up and down choosing a video with a cheating wife and black man together late in an evening. As he watched the video, he heard strange, heavy footsteps coming from the hall. Brett muted his video realizing he wasn't alone in his house!
Looking like a fool with a his right hand stroking his penis, a young black man stepped into the kitchen. It was La'Damian and proudly naked, his satisfied black cock swinging low. Brett slammed his laptop shut and sat there dumbfounded and speechless.
La'Damian took a good look at the kitchen, envious at it's spacious size. He snarled at Brett. “Make me breakfast, white boy!”
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.
AN ALTERNATE ENDING
Samantha and Susan sat for drinks in the lounge of the Black Paradise Hotel, located in the Civil Zone. They were dressed in provocative, slutty-wear, something that was becoming the norm for the hotel bar. They girls shared drinks alone in a booth not realizing they were catching the attention of many black gentlemen.
“You should do it ...” suggested Susan.
Samantha smiled but shook her head, “I … don't know. All this was Brett's idea.” Susan tried to convince Samantha to commit Brett to the racial attitude correction center where her own husband was held. Susan went on how she didn't need to visit her husband anymore and the staff there was extremely pleased how she continued with a responsible sex life.
“It only requires your signature and he'll be evaluated for a few days. You'll have the entire house to yourself. You don't even have to speak to him.” said Susan. The anti-racism laws in Black Pine made it easy to bring in white males for observation for traits of racism. Susan had given testimony of her husband's intolerance and bigotry which directly resulted in his incarceration of the city's attitude asylum.
“He's a white male, Samantha. Wake up!” added Susan confident that was all the reasons necessary to “correct” Brett.
Samantha nodded, “Brett is useless since he lost his job. But ... I don't know. It seems cruel.” But that cruelty put a grin on Samantha's face and she felt pleasure and feminine empowerment. Susan gestured at the two older, black gentlemen staring at them from the corner of the bar. “Let's ask those two for their advice and hear what they have to say?” Susan suggested. Samantha agreed and the two ladies walked up to the gentleman, both twice their ages. In little time, drinks were shared followed by a serious conversation about race. The four of them would soon continue their discussion upstairs in a hotel room.
This is the sixth chapter of faithful, pious housewife transforming into a progressive, sexual submissive for black men. What started with a conversation how to accommodate black power with her husband, had changed their marriage forever.
Isiah was known
for his quiet voice, respectful mannerisms, and his charity. He was a young, black man of twenty and was very polite. The members of the community considered him an upstanding citizen and praised him for resisting sin unlike other black males of his age. However, in the early hours of Monday morning, after a day of church and choir, his masculine desires were too great to ignore. He stood naked in the middle of one of the rooms at the Black Owned Motel. With clothed dropped to his ankles, he had chosen a white girl to act out his carnal desires. Isiah promised he would beg forgiveness later.
Samantha would be his lover that hour. She was on her knees, naked and rubbing her breasts against his manhood making it erect and hard with desire. Grabbing it with her hand, she stroked it up and down sending shivers of pleasure through Isiah he did not understand.
“You need your dick sucked, don't you?” Samantha asked with a smile.
Isiah could only nod, feeling embarrassed.
Samantha lowered her head and began giving the young, black man what he needed. Isiah started breathing heavy and his guilt he felt wanting sex soon evaporated. He started bucking his hips, “Evil … evil white whore!” he told her. Samantha didn't object nor stop servicing her black lover. She was a hole to him and she accepted her obligation. The motel was a place where white women served black masters their bodies. Samantha licked his balls and told him, “You can have anything you want, baby! You're black.” Isiah stretched his head to the ceiling wanting to scream or moan, he couldn't make up his mind. When Samantha put his cock back into her wet mouth, he put a hand on her head and bucked his hips again. He wondered how many blow jobs she had given and guess it was a very high number. Isiah assumed Samantha must have seduced many good black men in the community. Maybe some of the members from his church, the slut! The gentleman inside of him yearned to love, at least respect, the woman he was having sex with. But he shook that off thinking what a tramp Samantha was. After all, it only took a short conversation and a couple bills to convince the pretty, white girl out of her panties. “Suck my cock!” he muttered. The aggressive, black man inside him demanded.
When Samantha got on all fours on the bed, she lowered head and stayed motionless. She arched her back and presented her ass to Isiah. “My pussy's ready for you, sweetie!” she told him. Isiah grabbed his cock by its base. It was up to him to be man. This was why he was there late at night. He needed pussy and wanted a white girl. Isiah was envious of his friends, cousins, and role models who had white girls tripping over themselves to experience black cock.
Isiah's “other head” was thinking for him now. He took a good look at Samantha's bare pussy. The white girl meant nothing to him but she had that pussy between her legs his cock screamed for. He looked down and saw his cock slick with Samantha's spit from her greedy, dirty mouth. Isiah looked at Samantha again as she waited quietly. Her lips parted and he imagined she could still taste his cock in her mouth. Isiah shook his head, he could wait no more. He stepped forward and rubbed his cock against Samantha's pussy and pushed in.
“Geezus! Gawd! Ugh … ugh!” grunted Isiah not sounding like the good, polite member of the choir. Samantha panted sounded like she was struggling to take his organ. Isiah showed no sympathy to her other than grabbing her hips before reaching further with his left to grab a tit. Isiah grunted and lunged ahead like and started humping and grinding like an animal.
“Oh, fuck!” screamed Samantha being dominated by the younger man. She felt Isiah push and push and quickly becoming a strong, assertive man thanks to her encouragement. But she had to stay in her submissive position feeling him take control. Isiah grunted angrily venting his frustrations he was responsible putting on himself.
Samantha moaned and Isiah loved it. He was “fucking” a white woman, blacking her, making her a race traitor. Fuck white people! He loved how powerful he felt with his manhood pushed inside a tight womb. Isiah discovered he had a masculine ego and he embraced it. He promised it he would have more white pussy in his life!
“You like fucking that white pussy, huh?” Samantha asked in a stupor. Her young lover only replied with primal grunts. Isiah understood what white girls were good for as his friends told him. He was was going to fuck, dump his precious seed inside of her, and leave her behind. This is what they are good for. This was the only thing they were trusted to be.
“Yeah! Yeah! Fuck my race!” said the blonde betraying her people.
“Ugh! Agh! … Fuck!” yelled Isiah. He felt it. He felt it coming. An eruption of sticky, thick, semen out of his organ and into deep into Samantha's pussy. Isiah was too naive to understand the meaning behind what a “cum dumpster” was. Until that moment.
“Yeeeeeowww!” screamed Samantha, shaking the walls of the room.
Brett's eyes popped open and his heart raced.
Was that a dream he experienced? Visions of Samantha turning a good, quiet black man into a raging sex machine is what he remembered seeing in his head. He kept mumbling to himself, “Oh, my gawd. Oh, my gawd.” he felt his life was sliding out of control. With all the discussions about black men fucking his wife, he started to believe he and Samantha was becoming obsessed over it. Did he really see Samantha trolling the motel lot for men? Or was it his imagination?
It was Monday morning and Brett' felt miserably tired with the poor night's sleep. He wondered if Samantha returned home? If she wasn't, it would settle that it wasn't a dream. Brett quietly looked down the hall and saw Samantha's door closed when he remembered it was left open earlier. But he chose to inspect the garage first. Both sedans were parked side by side, the black next to the white. He even looked out in front of the house to see if any strange cars were parked in the street or driveway. If the owner of the car were in his master bedroom, he would want a hint before it was too late. But there was no strange cars parked. All was left was to check on Samantha.
Brett sneaked back into the hall towards the master bedroom door. Was Samantha sleeping alone? Brett had to know. He first put his ear to the door listening for heavy breathing or creaks from the box spring. Brett put his hand on the door handle and gave it a little nudge. It gave in. The door bolt snapped out of its strike plate and Brett squeezed his eyes shut hoping he didn't give himself away. He peered inside.
Samantha was lying on her side facing away from the door. Her blonde hair was messy. By her bare shoulders, she was sleeping at least topless. With a black g-string dropped on the floor, she may have been naked as well. But Samantha was alone. Brett closed the door and felt unwanted. He decided to return to his room and masturbate before calling in sick.
It was 3:00 pm when Samantha finally emerged from her bedroom. Showered and refreshed, she was wearing a comfortable shirt and plush pajama pants when she was startled in the living room. Samantha didn't expect to see Brett home. She let out a surprised, “Oh!” when Brett looked up and closed his laptop cover.
“Hi, dear.” said Brett. “How did you sleep?” he asked.
Samantha sat down far across the room, purposely keeping her distance. “I slept … good.” she answered, “You're working from home?”
“I'm taking a day off.” Brett explained.
Samantha just nodded already feeling impatient. Her mind drifted and was already rubbing her knees together. Brett wasn't subtle and came out and asked his wife, “How is your hunt for a black boyfriend coming?”
“It's … going. Very well, actually. It will take some time but I need to do this.” Samantha answered while rubbing her knees together.
Brett took an encouraging tone, “It will be good for you to have a strong black man in your life. It will be a symbol of racial reconciliation.”
Samantha felt awkward discussing the topic so openly. But she wasn't going to discourage him, “Um, yeah. When he's in our marriage bed, we'll be doing a lot … fighting racism. I hope it will happen often.” she said.
“Well, I want to help. I've set you up on a … date.” said Brett.
Samantha raised her eye brows. “You did what?”
Brett explained he had consulted The Black Power Movement through text messages and emails. He said the Movement was very accommodating with sharing black culture with married, white women. Brett said her “meet up” would be ready with as little as one hour notice and the room was reserved and paid for at Black Paradise Hotel. Brett added the room was an “executive suite”, spacious, with a separate bedroom, and very expensive.
Samantha felt flattered and comfortable hooking up in a high end hotel. “So, are you interested?” Brett asked. Samantha crossed her legs and looked off to the side. “You really want me to do this?” she asked.
Brett looked like a man defeated, “Black men want this. I think you want this too.”
Samantha responded with a serious “Let's find me a black boyfriend. I trust The Black Power Movement to make decisions with my life. I can't wait.” She stood and told Brett, “Tell him I'll be ready in two hours.” before heading back to her bedroom. But Samantha stopped at the edge of the living room and looked over her shoulders to her husband and asked, “Will sex be part of the date?”
Brett looked down again and answered, “Yes, if you want.”
Samantha was satisfied and disappeared down the hall. For Brett, it would be a long two hour wait. Back in Samantha's bedroom, she closed the door behind her, undressed and stood in front of her mirror naked. She studied herself from her hair, breasts, and her ass hoping her date would approve of her. Samantha then picked up her phone and sent out a text.
“sry, canceling, I'll make it up 2 u!” Samantha then casually put down the phone and tended to her hair.
Samantha walked out
in tight, denim shorts and the last of her crop top. Her top was an off-white and she chose flat high heeled sandals. She figured she would need more clothes suitable for a lifestyle she was embracing. It may cost several hundreds, if not a couple thousand dollars. But she didn't care. Brett was waiting for her in the living room trying not to pass out from the excitement. Samantha silently walked into the garage and was only interested in being taken to the hotel located in the Civic Zone.
The tallest building in the district, the hotel was once known as White Pine Paradise Hotel. But with the election of the city's first black mayor, it renamed itself to Black Paradise and hosted Mayor Sweet's inauguration ball. While it since attracted new clientele, it was an upstanding place where the black elite came to play and be seen.
“Tell me about my date.” said Samantha and were her first words in the car with Brett. Brett cleared his throat and answered, “I was told he's a very important member of the community. I know little else other than he enjoys married, white women.”
“No age? Not even a name?” Samantha wondered.
“He wants to introduce himself there. I was told.” Brett said. Samantha found that very interesting. Brett looked over at Samantha's legs again and dreamed how they would be spread for an entire evening.
After parking the sedan, Brett explained to Samantha that he was to escort her to the room before leaving them alone. The couple entered the lobby and walked straight to the elevators. The room was located at a higher floor and Samantha was getting nervous. Brett couldn't take his eyes off of his wife's body knowing she would be naked and on her knees in minutes. He was getting an erection right in the elevator car. Samantha tapped her feet and was extremely impatient waiting for the car to reach its floor.
The elevator stopped. The ding, “dinged” and Brett and Samantha stepped out. Brett led his wife to the farthest end of the hall near the stairs. It would have the largest room on the floor with most privacy, as requested. When they reached the door and Brett was about to knock, Samantha pleaded by saying, “Wait.” Brett looked. Maybe, she had a change of heart. But Samantha only wanted to straighten her hair and look after her clothes. She took a deep breath and said, “Ready.”
KNOCK-KNOCK rapped Brett's knuckles on the door.
In a few seconds the handle swiveled, the door opened, and tall black man made his appearance. He was tall, slender, and attractive and introduced himself, “Hello, Samantha. My name is Kojo.”
Kojo spoke in an African accent that impressed and swooned Samantha. Samantha nearly giggled and let Kojo take her right hand to give it a gentle kiss. But soon Kojo looked deep into Samantha's eyes and saw a women who needed an African's attention. He leaned in and kissed her with open mouth in front of her husband. When their lips parted, he complimented her, “Your outfit pleases me.” He took Samantha by the hand and said, “Please come.” he insisted. Samantha wouldn't take her eyes off of the African. She was already in love and ready for a night of passionate sex. But in a heartbeat, every would change.
Kojo led her to the front room, complete with expensive furniture, lamps, and a big screen TV. When she stepped in the middle of the room, she had noticed more men waiting for her. They were standing quietly near the wall waiting for their white girl to come in from the door. Samantha counted … one, two, three, four. With Kojo, that was five. The four men approached her and began pawing at her body, fondling her ass and breasts and running their hands through their hair.
Startled, Samantha called out, “Brett? Did you know about this?”
“It's okay, Samantha. Just do what they want. They're Africans … migrants from Africa!” Brett reassured her. Samantha was kept busy kissing a migrant. Then she kissed another. Clothes started coming off and pants dropped to the floor. As African dicks sprang out, Samantha was only starting to realize what she was about to experience. Brett stared at his wife who was standing with her back to him. She was made topless and dropped to knees in front of one African and reached out with her right hand to grab a cock of another. Kojo walked past Brett and put his hand on his puny shoulder. “Go home, white boy. We'll send her back when we're done.”
Brett turned towards the door but not without one final look at his wife. Through a wall of black, masculine flesh all he could make out was the back of Samantha's bobbing head.
Brett's night at home
was one of loneliness, excitement, and guilt. He kept staring at his phone waiting for Samantha to call or text. Four hours had passed and Brett's stomach felt it was a size of a golf ball. He had no appetite. Brett spent the evening sitting in the living room couch, still in his clothes, waiting to jump into his car and pick up his wife. Between staying up late the night before and the excitement setting up his wife on her date, his exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep.
…
…
“Wake up!”
…
…
Brett opened his eyes and saw a blurry vision of his smiling wife who knelt on the carpet to look at him. “Wake up, honey.” said Samantha. She returned fully dressed in her denim shorts and crop top.
Realizing he had fallen asleep and left his wife behind he snapped himself out of his grogginess, “Samantha! You're back, I was ...”
“Shhhhh...” said Samantha, “I found my way back home.”
“Are you … are you alright?” Brett asked.
“I'm fine, dear.” Samantha assured speaking in a calm voice. She grinned at Brett who was looking guilty. “You knew about the five Africans, didn't you?”
Brett meekly nodded his head and asked, “Are you mad at me?”
Samantha calmly answered, “No, I'm not mad.” After a momentary pause, she told him, “I'm a slut … but that's what you wanted all along?”
Brett nodded again, just as meek, but just as honest. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked.
Samantha put her hand on Brett's cheek and said, “This isn't what I wanted for myself or our marriage. But what's done is done. I'm addicted to black cock … and ... I don't want to be cured. I only want to get fucked.” She then put her palm on Brett's crotch and felt the feeble hardness there. “I see you wanted this ...” she told him and went on to say, “... wanted to ruin our marriage to see a few black cocks put inside your wife. … My gawd. What a race traitor you are too.”
Samantha stood and with a little sorrow on her face began to undress for her husband. She went on and lectured him, “Our marriage is ruined forever, Brett … but I don't mind. As long as I get what I want.” Samantha stood naked in front of her speechless husband. Samantha put her hands on her hips and confessed, “This is the last night I'm sleeping alone. I'm going to fuck whoever I want when I want.”
When Brett didn't immediately respond, Samantha stepped up and raised his chin with her left hand. “I love black cock.” she confessed. She saw how her words aroused Brett. Samantha snickered at him, “You feel good hearing that, don't you? More than … 'I love you'. Well, I … love … black … cock. … Yeah, saying it makes me feel good too.”
Samantha snickered at Brett and stepped away to fiddle through her purse. She pulled out a cigarette and a lighter and lit up in front of her husband. Samantha had a disgusted smile on her face and shook her head as she blew blue smoke to her ceiling. Brett just silently stared at Samantha's naked figure. “Don't think that I didn't catch you staring at me at the motel. I saw you sitting in the car.” said Samantha, “Did you masturbate like a loser while black men paid to fuck me?”
Samantha kept looking at her husband with disdain and disappointment out of both marital and racial reasons. She smashed her cigarette into the fine wooden coffee table and said, “The Africans fucked my every hole. They called me dirty names and yet I promised my body to them, Africa, and all black men. I never had so much spunk. … And I need more! ”
Brett saw the raw, sexual energy his wife was showing. Black men, its culture, its power took hold of her. More than he could ever imagined. Samantha noticed Brett was staring at her shaven bare pussy as milky liquid ran down her inner thighs. “You like my pussy?” she teased him and rubbed it with her right hand. “Mmmm? All it needs is a tattoo. What do you think? How about one that says 'black cock slut'?”
Samantha teased Brett with an evil laugh. “Now, I want to ruin our relationship a little more. I really want to fuck up our marriage with no going back, okay?” she said with a smile looking for Brett's approval. Brett, powerless, just nodded. Samantha pushed Brett flat on his back on the couch and climbed up over him pushing her pussy into his face.
“Eat my cunt.” she whispered. “Taste black cum.” Samantha pushed her pussy, dripping wet with the semen of five, virile Africans against Brett's nose. The smell was overpowering and indescribable. It was the fragrance of sex, lust, power, and filth. With what little masculinity and pride Brett had left, he couldn't resist very long. The pussy in his face had given in the needs of several sexually aggressive males. That naturally clicked in his head and his penis stiffened. He opened his mouth feeling Samantha's swollen clit rub against his lips. Brett didn't have to wait to notice the flavor hitting his tongue. Samantha let out a gasp of joy before a long moan when she felt a tongue dig inside. She squeezed her breasts simply because it made her feel good and she ground her pussy into Brett's face.
“Oh, fuck! Cuckold! You fucking cuckold!” Samantha cursed and she started bouncing on Brett's face.
Knowing Brett had willingly accepted his place in the marriage, Samantha sat on the couch and made herself comfortable. She spread her legs wide with her knees pulled back. Brett knelt on the floor and buried his head in between her thighs. He lapped at her wet, used pussy. Brett tolerated, even enjoyed, the taste of black conquest of his wife and marriage. Samantha was enjoying herself. She ran her fingers through Brett's hair showing her pleasure. Brett felt relief but understood there were limits to healing their relationship. This was the price, and the taste, of black power. When Samantha had enough of Brett, she put her legs together over his head, swung her ass to the side and popped to her feet. She stormed off to her bedroom without a word to her 'husband'.
Tuesday morning
and Brett got an email he wished he wouldn't have. Reading it on his phone, it came from management. He missed too many days and working from home, let alone another sick day, was unacceptable. Brett had to balance his professional life with his personal one, now re-adjusted for racial justice. He pitied himself while he took a shower, shaved, and dressed. Brett walked out of the hallway bathroom and towards the living room.
There. He saw them.
Samantha was naked, on her knees next to a standing, naked African. She looked so vulnerable in front of such a tall and strong man. Samantha happily sucked cock and made cute, short moans with each bob of her head. Brett saw so much love and devotion in his wife's eyes locked on the African.
The African's name was Matata. He was a tall, handsome man of 25 years-old. Matata had his hands on Samantha's head and returned moans of pleasure. His manly groans were so deep it shook the ceramic mementos rested on shelves. Matata looked pleased yet impatient. He bucked his hips using his cock, nearly 10 inches and thick as a weapon reminding Samantha who was in charge.
Brett looked to his left, on the couch was Kojo. Kojo was on his back, naked as well, with a woman bobbing her head over his lap. It was Susan, their neighbor. Brett gasped. He long secretly imagined what Susan looked like without her clothes. Now Brett could see what kind of woman she was with a black man. Susan spat on Kojo's cock, licked his balls, and continued giving him his blow job. Brett also saw what sort of man it took to get Susan out of her panties.
“Your white boy is watching.” muttered Matata. Samantha slurped her mouth off of his black cock and turned to Brett. She gave him an unemotional and un-amused look. Samantha turned her attention back to Matata. She looked up to the African and whispered, “I love African cock.” before returning his organ into her mouth.
Matata put his right hand behind Samantha's head and gave her a good buck of his hips, “Serve our tribe. We take what we want.” he told her. Samantha responded with an approving moan and squeezing her left breast. Matata looked to the strange, unwelcomed white man in the room. The confident African told Brett, “Take off your clothes white boy. Watch us turn your women into whores.”
However, Brett did not show the African respect. Brett stood there speechless watching his wife serving a black man in his house. Foolish Brett, didn't understand it wasn't his house anymore. Disgusted by Brett's act of intolerance, Matata stepped back and pulled his cock out of Samantha's mouth. Brett's stupidity denied Samantha the taste of black cock she needed. Samantha was startled, having been cut-off from her responsibilities and obligations to her lover.
Offended, Matata marched over, his massive, erect dick swung beneath. The African grabbed Brett by his shirt collar as Samantha complained, “Show some fucking respect! They're Africans! They're better than you!”
Even Susan was broken out of her sexual trance, “Is he being racist, Sam?” she asked. Brett was paralyzed by Matada's physical size not to mentioned Brett greatly intimidated by Matada's naked body. The African gave Brett a playful slap with his left hand. When Brett didn't flinch or defend himself, he got another. But the second time was much harder.
SLAP!
“Obey, cuckold!” Matada told him before grabbing his shirt by the top button and ripping it apart. “Get out of clothes or I beat you!” he warned Brett. Samantha covered her mouth with her left hand but rubbed her pussy with her right. “Oh, fuck! White boy, gawd-damnit! Do what he says!“
Brett bit his lip to keep him from crying. The fear of getting pummeled in his own house, in front of his own wife, was emotionally wrecking him. He sniffled and hurried out of his ripped shirt, pants, and underwear leaving him standing with only socks and a little, tiny white prick.
Matada took a seat on the couch and pointed at Samantha then pointed at his cock. Samantha walked over on her knees and grabbed the African's organ. She looked over to her naked cuckold, “Now, I can show you what I think of our marriage. Are you watching? Watch!” Samantha kept her eyes on Brett but her mouth went over Matada's cock.
“Mmmmmph, mmmmmph, tch-chuck, mmmmmph ...” from Samantha's mouth. Brett's energy drained from his body and soul as he saw Samantha descend to the deepest depravity in front of him. He only imagined what his wife was with her black lovers. Now he saw from himself. While his heart ached, his cock sprang to attention. It approved of the stronger men in the room getting pussy.
“White boy, you will see this everyday!”, Matata told Brett. Samantha spat on the head of the black organ, “Fuck our race! Just fuck us!” she celebrated before licking Matata's balls. Brett looked over to the other couch where Susan sat with her ankles high in the air. Kojo put his head between her thighs and used his tongue on Susan's pussy. Susan was having difficulty holding back her moans and kept motionless as possible giving Kojo free access to her body for his pleasure came first.
Samantha made loud, erotic, almost obnoxious sounds using her mouth over Matata's black dick. She was in love with it and started smacking her face with it and giggling. Her laughter was like shoving broken glass into Brett's face. His wife looked so happy and devoted on her knees. She looked to Matata and put her hands together as if praying, “Please.” she whispered to him. Matata turned over and put his knees on the cushions and looked over the edge of the couch.
With Matata's ass in Samantha's face, Brett cringed as he watched Samantha first stroke Matata's cock from behind. It was apparent by its large size and thickness, it was meant for sexual penetration, fucking … breeding. Samantha looked at Brett again, “Now, I'm going to show what I think of you!” she scolded. Brett squeezed his diminished testicles when he saw Samantha put her tongue in the black man's ass and started licking and lapping like a dirty, filthy tramp. With Samantha's muffled voice, she said “This is where the white race belongs!” Matata reacted with only assured confidence and entitlement. To him, Samantha was where a white girl belonged, sexual servitude to him and his race.
Samantha pulled her face out and whipped to Brett, “You're not watching? Are you racist? Aren't you happy for the black man?”
“Watch, white boy!” growled Matata without making the effort to look at him. Brett shifted his eyes and watched Samantha kiss up and down the black skin on Matata's ass. Samantha smiled and rubbed her pussy. “You can have everything! Anything I have belongs to black men!” she told Matata. She couldn't stop herself and licked more ass. Samantha existed to be used by the black race and its men. The African migrants, having traveled so far, endured so much, with no money or work-skills compatible with modern, Western age were more important than anything in Samantha's life.
“Lick ass, tribal slut!” said Matata.
Brett stroked his penis. That's all he could do. He watched for several more minutes as both his wife, and Susan on the next couch, were licking ass of Africans. It was a ritual in pleasure, power, and tribal bonding. Matata took a seat on the couch and lifted his muscular, long legs high. He laid back comfortably as awkward as it looked. But he liked seeing Samantha's nose into the bottom of his heavy balls. Samantha looked into Matata's eyes with a racial, angry look. She wasn't a lady but a whore, slut, and race traitor. Samantha mumbled to her husband, “I'd sooner eat black ass than love you!”
Samantha rubbed her breasts across Matata's cock up and down. She turned to Brett again, wanting to berate him. He deserved it, she felt. This is what you wanted, honey! You wanted me to go black!” Her husband could only look into the corner but his eyes betrayed him and stared back at the race-conquering, pornographic sight of an African owning his wife like property.
Matata got up wanting Samantha to get on all fours on the couch. He stepped behind her, making Samantha raise her ass to him. Matata put a hard slap across Samantha's white ass, “SLAP!”, making her yelp in delight. “Watch, white boy!” said Samantha, “This is how our race dies!” She shut her eyes feeling the girth of Matata's demanding, black organ. Samantha gritted her teeth and grunted, “... fuck … FUCK .. FUCK!” feeling the cock penetrate her. She cursed and slapped a hand on the cushion in front of her, “I'm getting fucked by Africans … again!” At the other couch, Susan had climbed on top of Kojo. She lowered her toned, bubble-shaped ass and moaned to the ceiling when Kojo's cock went inside her. The two couples began thrusting and pushing male organs deep into wombs as often and forceful as possible.
Brett, the fifth useless wheel, stood and watched the four mate. He listened to them groan. He never saw Samantha so controlled … and happy. Samantha's deep exhales and muffled groans were never shared when he was inside her. Brett was left out, excluded, and forgotten. But he pulled on his penis anyway.
“Kneel here, white boy!” Matata said to Brett, pointing to the floor next to Samantha. Brett looked to the floor in shame. His “manhood” could not compare to Matata's. The African's voice was deep, powerful, yet strangely compassionate. When Brett's white knees hit the carpet, Matata told him, “Your wife wants nothing from you.” the African said of Samantha as he lunged his loins into her white pussy, “She only wants this, black cock.”
Brett saw how euphoric Samantha was. Her eyes were crossed and drool ran down her chin. She cocked her head a little back each time Matata pushed his cock deep inside her. Brett stood inches away from his wife who did not notice nor care. Matata grunted feeling content and rightfully satisfied for the moment.
A slap came across Samantha's ass. Matata told Brett, “She belongs to our people. Your marriage means nothing to her.” Brett studied Samantha close. Her fingers clutched the cushions beneath her. She bit her lower lip as she begun rolling her eyes. Brett saw how her titties were bouncing back and forth with each powerful thrust her African lover was giving her. “Fu .. fuc … fuck me ...” Samantha whispered.
Brett took a deep breath through his nostrils and pleaded with her, “Is this … is true, Samantha? Does our marriage mean nothing to you now?” But Samantha did not answer, she kept with her steady breathing as every inch of a black, African organ penetrated her. Matata slapped her ass again, “Tell him!” he ordered.
Samantha turned to her husband, looking *****. She grinned, proud to share with him, “Yes. It's true. I'm a whore for Africans.” Samantha wanted to say more but the intrusive, filling feeling took her attention away for something more important. She buried her face into the cushions and let out an orgasmic moan. Brett pulled on his dick hearing Samantha groan a second time. As her lover continued on a steady, confident pace, Samantha looked up and stared into Brett's eyes and simply whispered in a teasing voice. “Fuck … our ... marriage!” Stunned, Brett fell backwards on his knees while Samantha rolled her eyes again and put her mind on the black cock inside of her.
Matata slapped Samantha's ass again, showing pleasure in her conversion. “Don't cry. She's only a slut.” he told Brett. Samantha giggled and rolled her eyes again. Matata pulled out and smacked her ass with his black, meaty dick. He instructed her to get on her knees. She was unworthy to sit on the couch. The African pointed as his loins, “Worship this. Worship the fruits of Africa.”
Samantha licked Matata's balls before running her tongue up his shaft and started sucking his cock again. Brett scooted back and looked away not recognizing his wife anymore. “Tell your husband what you swore to us yesterday, Samantha, whore for Africa!”
Samantha kissed the tip of the African cock and smacked her tongue with it. She looked into the African's eyes without care of her disheveled nearby. “I disavow my race, my marriage, my religion for Africans and all black men!” She lowered her head and filled her mouth with Matata's hard cock, showing her devotion to him.
“Mmmmph! Mmmmph! Mmmmph!” slurped Samantha with a right hand cupping Matata's testicles. Brett looked up and witnessed how much of a black cock slut Samantha had transformed into. He was in awe of the black man! Samantha freed her mouth from cock to laugh at her husband. But she felt he was unworthy of another word from her. Instead, she gently pushed Matata's shaft with her palm against his abdomen and spat on his balls. She smiled at them and put one into her mouth. Brett turned his head. He was too jealous!
Matata's grabbed Brett by his hair and made him look. “Don't turn away, white fucker!” So, Brett was made to look as his wife took Matata's cock back into her mouth. Brett could read his wife's mind as he and Samantha exchanged looks.
“This is our future, enslaved by the black man.” Samantha spoke to Brett with her eyes.
Matata instructed Samantha to lay on her back on the couch and spread her legs. Samantha said to Matata, “I can't believe I married a white man.” When her African lover penetrated her again with his dark spear, Samantha whined and moaned.
“No rights for your kind. Just be fucked.” said Matata. Samantha agreed, “No rights for us. Fuck us to extinction!” Matata turned to Brett and laughed. He made sure the sorry, white husband saw how black cock was pushing deep into Samantha's womb.
Brett wiped his forehead. He also saw Kojo, at the other couch, pull on Susan's blonde hair as fucking her doggy-style. Kojo grunted, holding his free hand into the air in a fist. Kojo celebrated Africa with Matata and their conquest of married, white and affluent women. Kojo made Susan beg, “I live for black cock! I live for Africa!” she pledged. Meanwhile, Samantha arched her back and went into another orgasm. Her hate for her race was complete. The orgasms were too powerful and she accepted her addiction. She would do everything necessary to have black men in her life.
Matata grabbed Samantha by her ankles and let out a deep grunt and uttered, “This is your place, slut.” Samantha moaned while biting her right forefinger and blankly stared into the ceiling. The look on her face reflected absolute submission and surrender to black power. Matata roared again and Samantha matched him with a squeal. Samantha felt a splash of hotness and liquid fullness inside of her. Matata lunged forward a couple more times before he pulled out of her swollen pussy. The African released Samantha's ankles and got up and walked away into the hallway. Brett saw Samantha's place was being a cum-dump. She laid there on her back, legs spread, panting.
“We're so fucked ...” Samantha whispered to herself and felt like laughing. She wanted to mock everything she had believed in. Her marriage vows, her white privilege, and her religion … now meant nothing. She was a servant to the black man and their sexual needs. Samantha turned to her cuckold and demanded from him, “Eat my pussy!”
Brett, however, didn't immediately move. That made her upset and she made sure he knew it. “Listen, asshole!” she barked, “If you don't come here and eat this spunk, I'll kick you out of the house and divorce you!” Brett, humbled and stripped off his white ego, wobbled on his knees to his destiny. Stripped of clothes, ego, and toxic, white pride, he took a deep breath and lowered his head and began swiping at Samantha's dripping, sloppy pussy with his tongue. Feeling his warm tongue scoop up cum from a real man, Samantha giggled. “This is where you belong in a black man's world.” She said to him and was in disbelief how low Brett was as a man undeserving of respect. Samantha said to herself, “I love black power.” she whispered. Samantha was proud of herself. She pleased an African and smashed white masculinity to it knees.
Meanwhile, Kojo slapped Susan across her ass before wrapping his left arm around her waist. He moaned and pumped his loins. Kojo leaned forward and whispered into Susan's ear, “Africa will fuck you. You will love it.” The African wanted to see his white girl / black-cock slut eat his seed. It would be a beautiful act of acceptance seeing her swallow his African pride and make it a part of her blacked life. Kojo stepped back and pumped his cock with his fist as Susan went to her knees with her mouth greedily open. Kojo's body jerked as thick cum splattered out of the tip of his cock into Susan's mouth. When he was finished, Susan closed her eyes and sealed her lips. But she could only hold her passion for a couple seconds. Susan parted her lips and let out a gargled groan. Should she swallow? Or should she continue to taste Kojo's flavor of masculinity inside her mouth. Kojo smacked Susan's face with his satisfied organ. “Fine white girl.” he said to her.
Susan walked over to her friend and opened her mouth over Samantha's. Drools of semen, sperm, and spit dropped on Samantha's tongue with some gel landed on her lips and chin. Samantha put a kind hand on Susan's breast as she accepted her gift. Kojo, standing near the other couch, looked proud and stroked his aching cock. Samantha's and Susan's lips met in a hot, sloppy kiss with cum running down each other's chins. Their tongues swam in the sticky, organic mess each had in their mouths. Both girls swallowed. They couldn't resist and laughed with each other.
Samantha whispered into Susan's ear, “Throw my husband's suits on the bed in the guest room and have Matata fuck you on top of them.” Susan giggled, more so at Brett. She couldn't resist and went down the hall to find Matata. Samantha then sat up and lifted Brett's head by his hair and put her lips on his. The couple engaged in a soulless, mechanical kiss without marital passion. Brett realized Samantha wanted to feed him more cum. He couldn't take more and pulled back coughing wondering if he will ever get that taste out of his mouth.
Samantha chuckled, “You know you love it … just as you love the idea that I'll never let you fuck me again.” Brett wiped his lips, looked down and said nothing. Samantha giggled again, “You have the wife you always wanted. Selfish, sex hungry and … black owned.” Kojo walked over to Samantha and rubbed his cock against her face. She didn't need another hint. Samantha turned her head and starting sucking on Kojo's cock. Kojo seethed needing that feeling of a warm mouth over his manhood. “Suck my cock, slut.” he told her as he bucked his hips. Samantha didn't resist or argue if she was a slut or not.
Brett stood and watched as he “rubbed one out” and came into the palm of his other hand. Kojo looked over and made a gesture by cupping his hand to his mouth. “Eat.” Kojo told Brett. Brett did what he was told and ate his own semen from his own hand. Noticing her husband, Samantha turned to him, “You can go now.”
Picking up his clothes, including his torn shirt, Brett headed to his bedroom where Matata and Susan were fucking on top of his clothes. On her back, Susan wrapped her legs around Matata and begged him “not to stop”. The African continued his steady thrusts and pushed his manhood deep inside her. Brett had to rummage through the hamper looking for anything worthy for the office. With the sounds and scenes of sex, the Africans had control of his house and the women inside. Brett wore his wrinkled, dirty clothes to work hours late. This would be too much for his managers and was fired that morning.
Sunday morning,
and Samantha walked out of her bedroom dressed in her “Sunday best”. Brett, sitting at the kitchen table, was at his laptop sending out resumes and writing one desperate cover letter after another. Brett hadn't seen much of his wife since that Tuesday. She had been spending much of the days and nights out of the house. By the expensive receipts piling up, Samantha had bought more outfits for her nightly visits to the Motel. They were going quickly into debt.
When Samantha walked through the kitchen fidgeting with her earrings, Brett was taken back, if not a little bit relieved, with her decent wardrobe. “You're going into church?” he asked, curious since she proudly disavowed her “racist, oppressive” beliefs.
Samantha smiled devilishly, “Oh, yeah! What better place to recruit some white girls?” She then showed unusual curiosity in her husband, “How's the job hunting coming along?”
Brett tried to make the best of it, hiding the real difficulty for a white male to be taken seriously in the city. “It's coming.” he said, “I have some opportunities … a few.” Samantha nodded once but didn't show any real sympathy. She grabbed a large bag filled with outfits better suited for her lifestyle after church. “After church, I'm going to pay reparations at the Movement.” Samantha told her cuckold, “Then, I have 'dates' with the migrants before I hang out at the motel.”. Samantha snickered and walked into the garage.
Brett returned to his laptop after hearing Samantha drive away. However, he couldn't resist the cravings. He rubbed his knees together in an awkward, clumsy attempt to give his testicles attention. Brett rubbed them with his left palm as the fingers of his right hand fumbled at the keyboard. He closed his windows and brought up his favorite porn sites for interracial videos. Images of black dick after black dick relieved his hunger as they took prominence in front of feminine, white skin in their beautiful curves. Brett wiped his forehead, already starting to sweat in the excitement. He scrolled up and down choosing a video with a cheating wife and black man together late in an evening. As he watched the video, he heard strange, heavy footsteps coming from the hall. Brett muted his video realizing he wasn't alone in his house!
Looking like a fool with a his right hand stroking his penis, a young black man stepped into the kitchen. It was La'Damian and proudly naked, his satisfied black cock swinging low. Brett slammed his laptop shut and sat there dumbfounded and speechless.
La'Damian took a good look at the kitchen, envious at it's spacious size. He snarled at Brett. “Make me breakfast, white boy!”
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.
AN ALTERNATE ENDING
Samantha and Susan sat for drinks in the lounge of the Black Paradise Hotel, located in the Civil Zone. They were dressed in provocative, slutty-wear, something that was becoming the norm for the hotel bar. They girls shared drinks alone in a booth not realizing they were catching the attention of many black gentlemen.
“You should do it ...” suggested Susan.
Samantha smiled but shook her head, “I … don't know. All this was Brett's idea.” Susan tried to convince Samantha to commit Brett to the racial attitude correction center where her own husband was held. Susan went on how she didn't need to visit her husband anymore and the staff there was extremely pleased how she continued with a responsible sex life.
“It only requires your signature and he'll be evaluated for a few days. You'll have the entire house to yourself. You don't even have to speak to him.” said Susan. The anti-racism laws in Black Pine made it easy to bring in white males for observation for traits of racism. Susan had given testimony of her husband's intolerance and bigotry which directly resulted in his incarceration of the city's attitude asylum.
“He's a white male, Samantha. Wake up!” added Susan confident that was all the reasons necessary to “correct” Brett.
Samantha nodded, “Brett is useless since he lost his job. But ... I don't know. It seems cruel.” But that cruelty put a grin on Samantha's face and she felt pleasure and feminine empowerment. Susan gestured at the two older, black gentlemen staring at them from the corner of the bar. “Let's ask those two for their advice and hear what they have to say?” Susan suggested. Samantha agreed and the two ladies walked up to the gentleman, both twice their ages. In little time, drinks were shared followed by a serious conversation about race. The four of them would soon continue their discussion upstairs in a hotel room.
