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-Fatima
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The Dating Game
Melinda and Greg Valentine were a young white couple in their late 20s. Little Melinda stood at just 5’2” and had a lithe little body with two cute b-cup sized breasts and a firm round ass making her bottom heavy. The woman had fiery red hair and deep blue eyes like most of her patrician ******. Greg was tall with a toned body, but had a plain face with dark black hair and teal eyes he hoped one day he would pass on to their eventual children.
The conservative couple met in college as part of the Young Republicans group. Both came from strict high class families. Melinda found all of the men in the group repulsive except for Greg. Yet, secretly… She always had eyes for powerful black men. The girl was always nervous around them and her southern draw always seemed to make them grin at her as if she were a prize in a contest. Privately, she claimed to despise black people and all minorities. Secretly? She would be up against the shower wall suppressing moans as she got off to the idea of real men like them using her and the most intense setting on her detachable shower head. After 5 years of dating and two years of marriage, those ideas never left the little redhead… They only grew more intense to where she could not even orgasm without a thought of an ebony god using a little redhead like her.
“Sex with Greg is boring. It isn’t really cheating.” She reasoned, consuming a steady diet of interracial pornography all the while pretending to be a prude and innocent little white wife.
One day, just as she came, her interracial video came to an end and an ad began to play. On her hands and knees she rested on her shoulders with her face turned toward the screen and her thick bubble bottom high in the air. Trembling from her release, she watched as a commercial for the Social Justice Network (SJN) played.
“Is your marriage strong? Can it survive temptation? Compete to appear on TV and for a chance to win $500,000!” The ****** host Fatima declared, the gorgeous black female grinning from ear to ear. Her post-orgasmic brain subconsciously made her click on the ad bringing up the contest rules and page for ‘The Dating Game’ for the new channel SJN. The little redhead winced a bit at the thought of the left wing channel, preferring only conservative biased news. Yet, $500K? The couple could pay back their student loans and buy a house for their eventual ******! All she had to do was go out on a romantic date with Greg and then another unknown man… And, of course pick Greg at the end! It was just a date.
It was not hard to convince Greg, the idea they would even be picked not even crossing his mind. Melinda submitted a beautiful wedding photo of her and Greg accompanied by a questionnaire that asked all sorts of personal questions.
What political party do you belong to? Do you consider yourself religious? Are you private about sex or believe in sexual freedom? What is your income level? Are you on birth control?
Then, a very vexing question appeared. How do you feel about dating men outside of your race? The redhead bit her bottom lip, a small tingle inside of her at the thought. She breathed deeply, assuring herself that it did not matter who the man she went on a date with was. Greg would be chosen. Period.
Not wanting to let her prejudice be known, the Georgia peach ‘No preferences.’ Attaching the photo and questionnaire, she submitted an e-mail to the casting e-mail.
They heard nothing for 60 days, Melinda having already forgotten about the submission when she received the phone call. The producer Fatima desired to Skype with them and do a small audition to see if they would be right for the part. A surprised Greg agreed to audition when Melinda asked sweetly, but was a little dubious of their privacy. The last thought in his mind would be that anything would happen on Melinda’s date with the stranger. The producer assured the couple they were ‘just what they were looking for’ and when asked again about racial preference Fatima observed little Melinda hesitate a little before saying she ‘didn’t see race’. Clever Fatima could tell the white girl was uncomfortable at the idea…
She was perfect.
Months later, the couple was flown to Paris for the show. They were thrilled to be in the City of Lights and enjoy the romantic atmosphere. After meeting with production the couple were separated until their date, being taken to different hotels. They would be apart 48 hours and not permitted to communicate in any way.
Production helped dress them, putting Melinda in a tight violet dress and matching heels while he husband was dressed in Armoni clothes. He would be the first date, and everything was to be filmed…
At the hotel Melinda enjoyed a massage and enjoyed fine dining, but was alone watching movies and enjoying her ‘private entertainment’, getting off to a redhead being rutted from behind with her wrists bound behind her back.
Two days later, they met in the morning. The separated couple embraced and kissed, giving testimonials on how much they missed one another. Holding hands, the two wandered about Paris enjoying gift shops, museums, and boutiques. They had each meal together and enjoyed one another’s company as they tried to pretend the cameraman and a producer weren’t there. Their evening? A candlelight dinner on a balcony with the Eiffel Tower beside them.
That night the couple climbed in bed together, but only cuddled and fell asleep to a foreign film.
1st Date Testimonial
Melinda: “What a wonderful day! Greg was such a gentleman and we saw so many wonderful things. I have no doubt I married the love of my life.”
Greg: “Melinda looks so beautiful in her dress… I’m amazed she can walk so much in those heels almost effortlessly. I feel like the luckiest man alive.
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Melinda was given another set of her outfit to ensure her dress was clean and wrinkle free. The confident woman stood in front of her mirror enjoying her own reflection and how well the show dressed her, the bra making her smaller chest look fuller and accenting her firm bottom. She was ready.
The honest white wife was driven to the Arc of Triumph, a colossal monument. To her surprise what awaited her with the film crew was a gorgeously handsome black man named Jean Paul. Introducing himself, he took her much smaller lily white hand and planted a small kiss upon it… The small woman was already beginning rub her thighs together in slight arousal, but was still uncomfortable… She rarely ever spoke to black people… Especially black men.
“I’m Melinda…” She said, just above a whisper as she introduced herself. The tall Nubian Lord took her hand in his much more larger and powerful one. He had to have been at least 6’3”, making sweet Melinda that much tinier. The well-dressed man seemed so intimidating… The kind of man that Greg would feel threatened by.
It was certain to be a long day.
The ‘couple’ had a delightful outdoor breakfast before heading to a show together. Jean Paul was funny, educated, and articulate with a West Indian accent. In the theater, she sat beside him and instinctively curled her arm around his, the feel of the firm muscular arm almost making her whimper. The feeling of discomfort was leaving her and… She felt safe with Jean Paul. The producer insisted the couple hydrate due to the heat that day, giving them two bottles of water. His…? Plain water.
Her’s?
Something more.
Her water was spiked with a powerful aphrodisiac and fertility drugs. Both were tasteless, but were already having a strong effect. Her sex continued to wetten, the slowly corrupted white bride kneading her thighs together and trying to push the thoughts of an ebony god like Jean Paul fucking her. The image of the tiny redhead bouncing up and down in his lap made her quiver.
During a quiet lunch together Melinda told Jean Paul she was ‘tired’, needing a moment of quiet. In truth, it was to gather her thoughts and reclaim them. Going to the restroom, the girl shamefully locked the door and fantasized about her date… The taboo of his dark flesh against her white flesh despoiling her southern heritage. She easily came, muffling her moans with her free hand.
In her post-orgasmic state she was so much more malleable. Taking his arm, she was led to the limo that would drive them to another romantic site in Paris. Sitting in the back seat, she was cuddled up next to him… Her cheeks flushed bright pink as the thoughts began to return. All the orgasm did was make her more comfortable and in need of being close to Jean Paul. His muscular arm was around her, his dark hand on her hip. Turning her head, she looked up into his dark brown dominant eyes. She stared like a deer at the headlights of a coming car as the man leaned down and pressed those dark lips to her bright pink ones. An aroused moan came from her, the woman sheepishly accepting his kiss and his much larger tongue entering her mouth.
“You need to stop…. Greg… You love Greg.” The last of her willpower whispered. Pulling away, the bright red woman was so angry she had no control over herself, blaming her date.
“I… I… I didn’t want you to kiss me!” She hissed, but did not pull away… The taste of the superior male on her tingling lips.
“But you did… I saw it in your eyes…” Jean Paul insisted, smirking.
“I… Never…! I’d… I’d never… Kiss you, you… You nigger!” The Southern girl let out, willfully ignorant of her need for this man… Her need to please him.
The moment she said that work…?
SLAP!
With an open hand, Jean Paul slapped her pretty face making her cry out. Smirking, the ebony Adonis spoke sternly to her. “Look here, white girl… You’re with me right now. When you’re with me, you exist for one purpose. My pleasure. Say it.” The sadistic male demanded, his dark dominant eyes beguiling her.
Without thought, her mouth opened… Her lips moved… “My purpose is your pleasure.” She responded, her fragile white mind already re-wiring, her prejudices shifting away from minorities and solely on white men.
“Again.” Jean Paul insisted as the crew filmed.
“My purpose… Is your pleasure.” She said, her blue eyes slightly gazed.
Sliding his hand up her violet dress he found her matching panties. So easily, he slide his hand down the front of them and began to rub at her swollen pink pearl, one of her legs coming up into his lap to keep them spread.
Rubbing, the wicked man leaned in… Almost hypnotically whispering to her. “Whites are evil.” He insisted.
“Whites… evil.” She cried out.
“Africans…? They’re everything. White people are nothing.” He hissed.
“White people… Nothing. Africans… Everything.” She responded, whimpering as pleasure entwined with these ideas.
“Black is better. Chant it… Chant it or I will stop.” The man threatened, the corrupted Melinda crying out in fear at the idea of him halting.
“B… Black is… Black is better… Oh, God…! Black is better… Black is better… Rub harder…! Black is better…” She chanted, tears running from her beautiful blue eyes as she embraced her new purpose.
With his permission she came, the white woman covering his fingers as they kissed passionately, her own little tongue fighting to keep up. As they kissed he pulled his hand from between her legs and undid his belt and the front of his pants… Without looking her tiny hand reach out and… What…? How could it be this big?
Her tiny fingers could barely fit around the 13” pulsating inches of black godcock. A thick bead of precum leaked from the tip, her little mouth aching as she leaned down without command, mouthing the tip and stroking the ebony pillar… Drool wetting it and making it shimmer as she struggled to force it into her mouth and tight little throat. She hated giving blowjobs to Greg, and never, ever let him cum in her mouth… Yet, with Jean Paul…? She wanted nothing more than to taste him.
It was a struggle, but the dominant male growled hotly as he fucked her tight little throat… Her redhaired head bouncing up and down as the camera rolled, the woman fully debasing herself for the world to see. Craving his cum, her mind flashed white as she worked, finally bringing him to a shivering orgasm. Shot after shot of thick seed filled her mouth, throat, and tongue… The drool covered girl struggling to swallow it all before looking up to make sure Jean Paul was pleased with her.
He was.
Their tour was cancelled. Immediately, she went back to his hotel with him and into his suite. Melinda shivered as she awaited them to mount the camera on the tripod, spending those few minutes making out with her new black lover.
She could stop now before it went too far… It was only a blowjob… Maybe her marriage could still work… Maybe they would rip up the contract…
None of those thoughts ever ran through her mind.
The interracial couple lovingly undressed each other, the enthralled Melinda worshiping him… Kissing his perfect abs and chest… His powerful arms… Grasping her luscious red mane of hair, he firmly led her fully onto the bed. On her hands and knees she faced the camera as he mounted her from behind. With one hand, he kept her head up and staring at the camera. With the other he held the base of his coal black tool, rubbing the thick domed tip up and down her soaking little white girl cunt.
“Melinda…” Jean Paul cooed, tormenting her. “You’re exclusively black now… Fuck your husband… Say it. Say it and you’ll get what you need…” The evil man promised.
Her mind was racing… Her heartbeat intense as she stared into the camera, the small reflection of her and the position she was in reflected in the lens. Staring, her glazed blue eyes were fully genuine.
“Sir…! Black only now… Forever… Fuck my husband… Fuck…. Fuck you, Greg.” She said into the camera, an inner hatred for the white man who was incapable of giving her this pleasure intense.
Thrusting forward, the dark Atlas impaled her tight opening, stretching it wide with a deep growl from Jean Paul. Melinda was crying out in pain and pleasure… Needing that black godcock buried to the hilt inside of her more than anything. Thrusting her own hips back as Jean Paul held her head by the hair she stared into the camera, her make-up stained from the tears… Sweat… Saliva… and cum. Two-thirds of him pushed inside of her before he arrived at her twitching cervix. There, he halted…
“Birth control… Are you… Aahhh! Using any…?” Wicked Jean Paul asked, giving her cute bubble bottom a hard slap.
“Aaaaah! None! Ahh… Fuck…! I’m allergic to the pill… Condoms…” She told him, fully aware the Nubian was bareback inside of her.
With her confession he sneered, thrusting forward again and pushing passed the tight little ring and entered her fertile womb! Buried to the hilt, his swollen balls hit against her pink clit each thrust. Holding her by her red hair he rutted her from behind, making her take every swollen and throbbing inch of the black monolith deep inside of her.
“Mmn… Aah… You want to be bred, white girl…?” Jean Paul growled, fucking her violently… Threatening to bruise that perfect bottom further.
Wincing in pleasure at the thought, she cried out with her first orgasm as the idea of her little white tummy swelling with this god’s black baby. Shivering, she wailed out to him. “YES! BREED ME! PLEASE, SIR! Aah… Black is better!” She swore, tears leaking down her face from the intensity as he stretched the tiny redhead.
The corrupted white wife had at least one orgasm per minute after that… Losing count as each one overtook her and rendered her into an almost intelligible state, whimpering and crying out. “Black… is better… Fuck you, Greg… Breed me, Sir… Oh, God…! Fuck white people!” The shy conservative wife murmured out.
Deep inside of her she felt him become rock hard… It was coming… Her blue eyes widened as Jean Paul roared out in pleasure. Every one of those strong muscles tensed as he arched against her… Shot after shot of African godseed filled her fertile womb, the lithe white girl crying out at the feeling and having an orgasm so intense she fainted.
Waking to reality some moments later, she felt Jean Paul still grinding from behind… Slowly now… Her little body eagerly milking him of every drop of godseed. He had released her head, the girl staring up at the camera now as the semi-erect member was regaining life.
“A… Again?” Melinda whispered, afraid and excited at the same time.
The new couple spent the entire night and into the early morning hours pleasuring one another. Jean Paul was almost insatiable, using her whether she was a moaning bucking whore or an unconscious weight. The new day was supposed to be Melinda alone to think about her choice, but she found herself slumbering on top of Jean Paul who was still inside of her. The two slept like that until the late afternoon where they had one final session before she showered and was prepared for her testimonial.
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2nd Date Testimonials
Melinda: “…I don’t know what to say. I thought I was happy, but I never knew happiness until I was with Jean Paul. My feelings for Greg…? I barely can remember them now… And, you know what? I’m not sorry. It isn’t my fault I never got to know men like Jean Paul… It… It is my racist ******’s! It’s… It’s all white men! Greg deserves it for being white. The idea of having kids with him now…? I’d rather kill myself than carry a white baby. Black is better… Black is the future.”
Jean Paul: “Every white girl figures out their place sooner or later. They always crave the most superior genes… It is instinct. I’ve had more racist girls than Melinda in my bed. With how many times I filled her I have no doubt she’d pregnant.”
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Melinda bit her bottom lip as she was driven to where she would meet Fatima, Greg, and Jean Paul. This decision would be life changing…
Stepping out of the car, both men awaited her… Greg with a bright smile and Jean Paul with an impish grin. Greg leaned in to hug her, but the white girl loosely hugged back and turned her head to only accept a kiss on the cheek. Her husband knew she hated public displays of affection and figured she was just nervous… Until she saw her with Jean Paul.
Shamelessly, the white woman embraced the tall black man passionately. His large dark hands went to knead at her bottom as she looked up, her sweet submissive blue eyes begging for a kiss. Pressing his lips to her’s the two kissed passionately as if Greg was not there… The white man’s heart sinking…
Fatima grinned. “Melinda… Tell each man how you feel about them. Jean Paul first.”
The Southern girl warmly stared at Jean Paul. “Jean Paul… You… Sir… You’ve shown me the truth. You’ve shown me how happy I can really be. You’ve… You’ve changed me forever. When I first met you yesterday I… I craved you… A feeling I have surprised my entire life. You… You are not my lover… You’re my God now. I hope I am carrying your baby…” The white girl said, tears of joy radiating from her beautiful eyes as Greg stared in horror.
Her attention shifted to her white husband.
“Greg… I thought I loved you. But, I found out what love truly is worshipping a black man… Whites aren’t even people compared to African gods and goddesses. I wish you could understand how inferior you are to a man like Jean Paul… It… It is almost insulting to call you a ‘man’, as you have nothing comparable to him. I exclusively serve the men of the black race now… To serve them and breed only with them. I renounce my white bloodline and most of all renounce you…” The now evil bride told her loving husband.
Before Greg could even respond two crew members grabbed her white husband’s arms… The two surly dark men sneering at the destruction of the ‘perfect white couple’. Fatima had a sly sadistic smirk on her beautiful lips.
“Melinda… Tell us, what should we do with the loser of our game…?” The malicious woman asked.
“…Disposal. Fuck him. Fuck the white race.” She spat.
The white boy was easily detained and taken to the closest White Disposal Center. Although white men had to volunteer, the producers had worked out a deal with the center. Alone… Naked… In a room full of black gods with bats… He was snuffed out for the cameras to see.
The episode ended with the now visibly pregnant Melinda riding Jean Paul reverse cowgirl, watching the disposal footage and rubbing her own clit.
“Ooh, fuck… Murder that white boy… Kill that white boy, niggers!” She cried out before yet another earth shattering orgasm.
