Amanda feminizes her husband
Set after Progressive couple make a sacrifice and Amanda's sacrifice, the open-minded, racism-fighting duo steps up their efforts to raise the status of the black race at the expense of their marriage comforts. While the wife, Amanda, has proven herself as a dedicated racial justice advocate, it is time her husband, Miles, sacrifices more.
BLACK POWER!
BLACK POWER!
BLACK POWER!
Late night, and the auditorium of The Black Power Movement was filled with a beautifully, racially diverse crowd. And how they roared! In unison, they celebrated every spoken word with their pledge, their oath to defeat white racism in all its forms. They prayed for black supremacy in government, education, and social and reproduction decisions.
Amanda giggled like a drunken school girl. She stood on her toes and raised her right fist in symbolic union with the advocacy group. Amanda and many other followers filled the headquarters hall facing the podium. "Fuck our race!" cried a white woman in the crowd. The audience applauded and another followed, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" The audience cheered louder. Amanda clapped her hands at the sexual offering the woman had made. Everyone approved. The crowd went into a euphoric frenzy celebrating racial victories over white people, its culture, and its intolerance.
Miles, Amanda's husband, stood not too far away and watched silently as one black man after an another approached her. Amanda seemed to enjoy the attention. She freely returned hugs and said nothing when the men groped her ass and breasts. Amanda even offered kisses to the most aggressive. She enjoyed the flavor of tongues from dominant, black men.
When the esteemed Akin Kalu, took his place behind the podium, he was looked to as a god. A tall black god dressed in African-style clothes. The gentleman in his 40's was blessed with a voice as smooth as a religious leader. The great Mr. Kalu was leading a religion. His devout followers were committed to black empowerment, black supremacy.
"My blessed people, this moment will be celebrated. Your promise, your oath to our race must be consummated. Our strong, brave black men will embrace white women and together fight the evils of white racism!" said Akin and crowd reacted to the very mention of white racism.
"Fuck white racism! The white race is motha-fuckin' evil!" booed the crowd.
Amanda, like many others, made a "thumbs down" gesture over her head before clapping with both hands. One could see the anguish in her face with the mention of racism. With her voice and her body, she pleaded for permanent solutions to the inequities the color of her skin was responsible for.
"As Chair of the Black Power Movement, I ask ... no, I demand ... the white women here seek out black men and discuss race with them well into the morning. To the progressive white men who joined our cause, step back and stay silent." said Akin. And the crowd erupted again chanting justice on the white men. "Stay the fuck away!" many women chanted. The black men in the room stood confidently and made quiet fists to each other.
When Akin finished, the room went into a panic as the white women hurried to find black men to "discuss race" with. Miles understood. It was his place to go wait patiently inside his SUV. For Amanda, a trusted follower and member of the BPM, her night of obligations only began. She was personally escorted to another suite where she would practice proven techniques in defeating racism.
Suite number "3", was the organization's "party room" and only accessible through the back lot door. Only the top, most important and influential members of the BPM were invited. The room resembled a smaller disco-tech complete with a small stage and stripper pole. Along the walls were couches and love seats, all occupied with grinding flesh, black and white, making it a ceremony of racial bonding.
Naked, Amanda was busy on her hands and knees. On one of the couches, she bobbed her head on black cock, serving the race she adored. Grabbing her hips, was another male member of the BPM relieving his stress on her. Every woman in the room was devoting her body to the cause. There were three men for every white girl and nothing could stop the love happening. On the "stripper stage" were two (legally-aged) teenage girls. They were sisters, topless, in high-heels and g-strings. They gyrated to the rap music and its explicit lyrics. They lightly groped each other's breasts and kissed. The girls looked down from stage at how their mother volunteered. The sisters waited patiently for their turn.
The white women came from many background and age. There was a college student, a mother, a doctor, and of course, Amanda. She was 26 years old with dark blonde hair to her shoulders. She had a very nice body with an ass worth looking at and grab. And many men were grabbing it that night. The men were clearly in control and calmly voiced, "Black power" and "Justice". For the women, they grunted and groaned. Cock, black cock, was pushing making room in mouths and wombs. It was a glorious display of interracial harmony. Amanda, when her mouth wasn't full, would become vocal and beg, "I want cock", and "fuck my race". One after another would take their turns pushing their manhood inside of her. They had a mission to 'fuck' every women in the room. Amanda was wet, willing, and acted the slut she needed to be. All for fighting racism.
The orgy went on for nearly two and half hours and concluded with the racial sacrifice of the two teen-aged girls. They were brought down from the stage and each serviced two black men. The women, including their mother, watched and cheered being most happy for the men. Amanda, with two loads of sperm in her pussy, about had another orgasm just watching the power displayed in front of her. The girls were neither shy nor bashful. They came to the celebration with an understanding and accepted their place. Their mother put her hands together in front of her nose and began crying. She never had been more proud as a white woman giving her ********* to the Movement. Her girls had proved they were not racists and made a life-long dedication to black supremacy.
When the girls vowed to be whores for the black man, they were rewarded with streams of cum in their mouths and pussies. The release of black prowess made the room applaud again. The white women in the room welcomed the girls to a blacked life with many open mouthed, lesbian kisses.
Outside, waiting in his SUV, Miles sat obediently waiting for his wife. In the back lot, parked near a trash dumpster, he spent nearly three hours sitting on his sore ass. He entertained himself watching the small number of black men and white women congregating outside. They would laugh, smoke weed, and the girls suggestively danced for their amusement. Miles tried not to pay attention to the groping for it would make him think what was happening to Amanda inside the suite.
When Amanda stepped out through the door, Miles perked up. She had trouble walking in a straight line and her hair was messed up and sticky. She carried her shoes in her hands and made it to the SUV barefoot. The routine was usual, Amanda would climb in, Miles would start the engine, and he would drive her home, no questions asked. But Amanda was especially worked up. She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, and quietly giggled to herself in her stupor. Miles couldn't help but to look at his wife and how she parted her legs in her seat. He wondered how many men used her.
Returning to their home in “middle suburbia”, Miles helped Amanda out of the SUV from their garage into their home through the kitchen. Amanda dropped her shoes to the kitchen floor and grabbed her husband by his collar and hurried to her bedroom. “Take off the clothes, take off your motha-fucking clothes!” she demanded. Meanwhile, she stripped off her own, smelling like used sex and pushed Miles to the bed with him only in his boxers by then.
Amanda climbed on top of him and pushed her pussy into Miles's face while facing his feet. Anticipating the sweaty, smearing lust, Miles gripped Amanda's ass and parted his lips. Smelling the musk, the spent lust of many black men in that room, his masculinity took a beating and he first felt queasy. Amanda grabbed his crotch through his cotton boxers and demanded his submission, “Eat my black-owned pussy!” When she felt a tender kiss followed by a swipe from his tongue, she made a high pitched squeal. “Oh, my gawd! Oh, my gawd! The black man wins again!” she yelled in almost disbelief. Amanda pushed herself into Miles's face with one thrust after the other. “Taste that cum.” she told him, “That's black power! Black power!” she celebrated. Miles's surrender of masculinity was complete. He was not only pleasing his wife, but an active participant in racial healing. Miles felt he didn't have to do as much as Amanda to support black supremacy. This was an acceptable act to help achieve social and racial justice. The white race deserved many moments of defeat to the greater, beautiful black race.
With several clutches of her husband's stiff, but small, penis through his boxers, it didn't take much effort for him to “pop”. Amanda felt the jerks and wet dribbles soaking through the fabric. She gave his crotch a couple hard palms, “That's way more than you deserve, white boy!” she told him. Amanda lifted her body off and above her husband's face leaving a bridge of spit and cum between his lips and her pussy. Amanda panted and rolled around laying next to her husband. They enjoyed the moment of marital and racial bliss before he would go to his own bedroom.
Miles, laid silent, appreciative of having his wife to himself. He thought long and hard how their liberal values led to this lifestyle. As an environmental impact researcher, Miles had a proud, left-leaning life that allowed him to work remotely. He was paid handsomely to come up with reasons to halt construction projects at any cost. Miles had discovered endangered rodents, invasive plants only native to Asia, and colonies of termites that blocked new residential homes, mass transit hubs, and even a children's hospital from construction. When he and Amanda discovered The Black Power Movement, they were drawn to their message of political and social change. Trusting the black race with their marriage seemed the natural thing to do to distinguish themselves from white do-gooders, who were no different than the racists if they didn't offer change in their lifestyle and openly sacrifice something valuable in their white, privileged lives. Therefore, the progressive couple sacrificed Amanda's vow of monogamy.
The white, married couple put their minds in fighting racism. Amanda opened her heart and her legs to black men as a modest gesture to atone sins of her race. Like many women her age, she grew tired of stagnated progress of racial justice and blamed white men for standing in the way. She was proud of breaking old barriers, including white cultural morals that kept the two races from finding an understanding and bond. Amanda discovered that black men had so much to offer with their power, stamina, and charisma she fell in love with them and embraced sex as the only method to repair racial mistrust. Miles, was so much a dedicated progressive, his veins bled soy milk. The days of an outspoken white man was long over, he thought. Miles never stood in the way or tried to dissuade Amanda from taking the path from an eager, optimistic wife to the racial justice activist and black cock slut. His liberal guilt would never question his surrender to the black race.
Miles, after the night in his own bed, could hear Amanda's giggles from the living room that next morning. He rolled over on his side pretending to not hear her guests and their deep voices. From the laughter, Miles figured there were at least two other men in the house. He rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling when Amanda let out a high pitched squeal and giggles. After a few suspicious moments of silence, he heard the rap music blaring from the stereo. Miles knew he would get no more sleep.
Miles carefully opened the door to his bedroom and crept down the hall. He could hear Amanda spinning on her heels as she undressed for her two guests. The music lyrics were imitating life.
Take your clothes off, girl!
Take your clothes off.
Spin that ass around!
Spin that ass.
Amanda dropped her top and danced topless entertaining the men. Both men were dressed in pressed shirt and tie looking affluent and professional. Amanda pulled down her shorts and showed her bare ass, wearing nothing but a g-string. The men began to smile and nod. When Amanda peeled off her g-string showing off her shaved pussy, she looked over her shoulder at them and grinned, “Let's fight racism.” she whispered. She then spun around and straddled one of the them giving him a lap dance. Amanda welcomed the pair of greedy, black hands groping her breasts. She gyrated her hips feeling his bulge aching for freedom. Amanda leaned forward and gave him a warm kiss before pushing her tits into his face.
Amanda crawled off and stepped to the second man. She crawled on his lap in a reverse-cowgirl and pushed her ass into his crotch arousing his lust. She enjoyed feeling the fingers grip her waist wanting to pull her near in a manly trust with another. After she finished with her lap dances, she went to her knees and watched her guests quickly undress and black cocks sprung out. With an open mouth grin, Amanda nodded, waited to be used.
“You going to show us you're good, white girl?” one asked her. As Amanda got a good, intimate look at the black organs inches from her face, she answered, “Oh, yes! Let me show what a good, white girl I am!” Reaching out, she grabbed cocks in each hand. She went wide-eyed, staring at them in awe and disbelief. Together, she had over 20 inches of masculine lust in her hands. The purple cock-heads pushed closer to her face, closer to her lips. Amanda took a deep breath and could feel the power of the black race overcome her. She surrendered her soul to them and opened her mouth and tasted them. She chose the cock in her right hand first and wrapped her lips before sliding her wet tongue underneath. The organic flavor of manhood lust drunken her and she bobbed her head making a slurp-sound with spit starting to run out from her mouth. Meanwhile, she stroked the other with her left hand trying to keep her other lover patient. After a few, short moments, she switched putting the second cock in her mouth. The flavor was just as erotic but different and piqued her curiosity tasting different black men. A firm hand rubbed its fingers through her blonde hair as the room was filled with the heavy panting of two men. Or was it three?
From the hallway, Miles stood and watched, hypnotized by the display of racial dominance the men held over his wife. Miles's cock stiffened. His right hand reached down and gave it attention. “Suck that cock,white girl. Suck that cock.” said one of her black lovers. Amanda switched again, being the good, white girl she promised to be. She poked her nose into black balls and started licking them like a whore drawing a louder moan out of him. Miles heart sunk into his stomach seeing his wife behave this way. While his liberal heart cheered at the racial atonement and togetherness this was making, he couldn't help but to feel weak and jealous. Amanda would never do this for him.
After Amanda spat on the cock in her left hand, she noticed her husband spying, watching, masturbating. She casually called out to him, “Come close, dear. Watch your wife serve the black man.” Naturally, Miles did what his wife said. Amanda looked at her black lovers, “You don't mind if my cuckold watches?” she asked. The men shook their head. One even taunted Miles and told him, “Yeah, watch us give your wife black dick! Pathetic, white cuck!” he scoffed.
Amanda laughed and made Miles feel small as his penis. “Fuck our race!” she told them. Miles got on his knees and watched his wife continue giving two strangers blow jobs. He couldn't peel his eyes off watching their heavy balls swing. Amanda instructed her husband to get completely naked and watch. “Don't miss a thing!” she warned him and began giving her husband an interracial sex show. The alpha males put Amanda on her hands and knees. As one was fucking her from behind, the other was fucking her mouth. Miles stroked his cock watching them use her. Submissive, she kept her position as her lovers motioned back and forth like pistons. They grunted and cursed. To them, she wasn't just a white girl to fuck and use. They were fucking her race. This was racial payback they looked forward to since the previous night's rally.
“Fuck! Fuck! Take you people down a few pegs! Fuck the white race!” one yelled as he pushed his cock into Amanda's wet cunt. The other lectured her, “Suck that cock! Suck that cock, slut!” The men turned dominant and extremely aggressive. “Their pussies belong to our black race, my brother!” one said to the other. The men forced Amanda to spin around and they swapped holes. The man now taking her pussy turned to Miles while grabbing his own cock, shaking it at him. “See this black dick? This is what your wife needs!” Miles couldn't help but watch Amanda get blacked by another black man. A stud. A bull. A superior lover who claimed Amanda's body for his pleasure.
“I live for black cock! I love black cock! I need black cock!” yelled Amanda removing all doubt that what mattered to her most. For several more minutes the men continued their thrusting, fucking motions into Amanda's holes.
“Tell your husband, no white dick for you ever!” demanded the lover in front of her. Amanda plopped cock out of her mouth and turned to him, “I'm sorry, baby. My white pussy is for black men only!” Miles could only masturbate in his racial weakness. Having two cocks inside her and witnessing her husband's racial surrender, sent Amanda over the edge. She climaxed in a mind-altering orgasm that furthered re-wired her brain.
When the men pulled their organs out of Amanda, they wanted her to roll on her back. As they stroked their cocks, Amanda called for her husband to lay beside her. With their heads touching, the married couple looked up watching two, dark figures stand above them. From the floor, they looked tall and god-like. Stroking their black cocks, they began to huff and whine. Miles closed his eyes but Amanda elbowed him in the ribs. It started as small droplets until globs of thick goo spat out of their cock-heads. Amanda and Miles felt warm rain of semen drop on their faces, necks, and chests. The men stepped backwards, sexually and racially satisfied. Amanda wiped her face with her palms and began licking them clean. She then turned to her breasts to scoop up the precious nectar. Miles, laid still, hoping the experience didn't really had happened. But Amanda rolled over and began licking his face clean before giving him a deep, open-mouthed kiss. The flavor of two real men, two alpha-males, were like high-proof liquor to Miles. Overly strong, almost unbearable, but certainly addictive.
Amanda smiled, looking at her husband, “I just love fighting racism!”
Three hours had passed. Amanda had showered and awoken from her nap. Miles went to work on his laptop in the kitchen, looking on new development to ruin. Work distracted him from the life married to a hyper-sexualized woman. It wouldn't be so bad if he could have some pussy once in a while. He was naive thinking it was just a phase and it would be his turn someday to get between her legs and deposit some of his sperm inside of her. Miles clenched his fist and cursed himself for the selfish, almost politically incorrect thoughts. For a second, he thought like a conservative. He shook off his selfishness and got a glass of soy milk and came up with a new approach to end a Children's Hospital in the Inner City.
There was a knock at the door and Amanda volunteered to answer. The conversation at the front door didn't last long and Amanda returned into the kitchen with a package. “It's a box, from Zara.” she told Miles. Miles' fingers froze at the very name and word of “Zara”. Zara's beauty, from the first night she introduced Amanda to black men, was permanently branded in his head. While Amanda was an extremely attractive woman, Zara was that and more. And Miles knew that Zara knew he had an eye for her.
“It's sexy clothes!” said Amanda as she opened the package. The couple looked inside and rummaged through red panties, stockings, a pair of heels, and a padded bra. There was also a red wig and a small vial of an expensive line of perfume. “I don't know what Zara has planned for me. The shoes and panties are not quite my size but the wig makes it kinky. I wonder what she's trying to tell me with the padded bra. You don't think my titties are too small, do you?” Amanda asked Miles who shrugged his shoulders. “Strange gift.” he opined.
Amanda's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and stepped out into the living room. All Miles made out was “Hi, Zara!”. Miles couldn't help but run his hand through the box of stuff. If this is something Zara wanted out of Amanda, he would be helpless to stop them. He put the panties to his nose hoping it was something Zara had worn. But all he smelled was a clean, fresh scent. He tuned his ears to Amanda's voice, curious to know what Zara wanted.
“Wait … you want to fuck Miles? But he's white.” whispered Amanda. That made Miles instantly aroused. But it sounded too good to be true. It was.
“Oh, you want to see Miles fucked?” Amanda followed. Miles' attention peaked.
Amanda returned to the kitchen and began to giggle. “That was Zara! The stuff in the box, it's all for you!” she told Miles. Miles dropped the panties, in his size, and his mouth opened. “Yeah, I know. We both want to see you in it when we get together tonight.” Amanda explained. Miles felt small and wanted to hide in a deep, dark corner. Amanda lifted the bra in front of Miles imagining how he would look in it. “I can't wait to see you in this!”
Miles showed a rare moment of protest and rejected the opportunity for racial justice. He dared to not accept Zara's presents and told his wife he would not get into women's clothing. Amanda pouted, “This would be a beautiful gesture in racial understanding. Shed your toxic, white masculinity. Let the black man be 'the man'.” she suggested. But Miles still objected. Amanda huffed and quickly grew tired of Miles' intolerance. “Is it your white ego? What do you think I give up when I get fucked? You just sit there and watch your wife and bask in the racial justice that I make with black men. It's fine time you make more sacrifices!” Amanda turned and wouldn't say another word until Zara arrived.
Zara arrived late in the evening at Amanda's house. Amanda greeted her and the girls hugged. They both were dressed in high heels, tight shorts, and a revealing blouse. Amanda chose to wear black while Zara picked out an outfit in red. “He'll be here in a little while.” Zara told Amanda who was anxious to hear more. Zara continued, “He's really horny and told me he's ready to fuck you up!”
Amanda was gushing and told Zara, “I really want to help them out.” Zara put her hand on Amanda's chin, “Remember what I taught you. With an open heart, an open mouth and legs, can we win the black man's trust and realize racial harmony.”
Amanda smiled and was in glee, telling Zara, “Gawd, yes. It's the least I can do. I want to do so much more for them.” Zara nodded, “With white racism, it's the only way.” However, Amanda had to confess her husband was more than a little hesitant wearing the outfit Zara gave him. Amanda's smile disappeared and she suddenly felt shame speaking of Miles' intolerance and hints of racism. “We've achieved so much! I can't he'd let something as important as this reverse all the gains we made with our marriage.” Zara winked at Amanda, “Let me speak with him.” she asked. Amanda told Zara she'd find Miles “sulking in his bedroom.”
Miles sat on his bed feeling frustrated. His outfit left scattered on the bed sheets behind him. He heard someone stepping up to his door, a couple knocks, and a “Hello, can I come in?” Miles turned and saw the smile of a beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous blonde. Zara helped herself inside and made Miles feel weak and intimidated when Zara closed the door behind her.
“I see you received my gifts? Were you thinking about wearing them … for me?” she asked, smiling, assuming an answer of 'yes'. Miles cleared his throat, “Well, about that. I don't think I'll feel very comfortable in them ...” he complained.
Zara began casually unbuttoning her blouse, revealing she was without a bra. She stopped when a little nipple could be seen when Miles took a peek. “I think you'll be very comfortable in them, if you just give it a try. Will you do it … for me? Please?” begged Zara in a sly, seductive voice. Zara pulled on her blouse and showed Miles her breasts. She realized she caught Miles' attention and raised her eyebrows demanding an answer. She saw that Miles admired them and said, “Yeah?”
Miles wanted so much to please Zara but he shook his silently shook his head. Zara upped the stakes, “I'll masturbate in front of you while you dress.” she offered. Miles' resistance was weakening. He began considering the offer. It might feel good to be in women's panties for a while. Then he saw the wig and decided he didn't want to be 'her'. He shook his head again feeling small and embarrassed. Zara closed her blouse, crossed her legs, and looked into the corner. In no longer it takes to snap fingers, she turned cold and sterile. “Listen, Miles. Amanda wants to spend more time with her black lovers. She told me she needs time alone with them on nights, weekends, even go on long trips. If you don't show you're just as committed to racial justice as she, I'm afraid divorce is around the corner and you'll be replaced by a black man in this house.
Miles looked down and felt empty inside. He didn't know what to say. Zara sat down next to him and put her arm around her shoulders, “She made real a commitment to racial justice, will you?” Miles didn't need long to think about it and nodded. “Good,” smiled Zara, “Let me help you get out of these clothes. You shouldn't have to feel you need to compete with real alpha males.”
Ding-ding! The door bell went off. Zara clutched Miles's shoulder and told him, “Amanda's date is here.” Zara whispered into his hear and teased him terribly, “Your wife begged me to get her dick tonight. She really enjoys fighting racism.”
With a tender kiss out of pity on his earlobe, she brightened up and said, “Let's hurry getting you ready!”
Zara helped Miles' out of his “masculine” clothes. Zara didn't give him time freely being bare chested and quickly wrapped his breasts and nipples with a bra. Miles felt embarrassed when he quickly sported an erection just as Zara tugged at the waistband of his underwear. “It's okay. Don't be embarrassed. I'm accustomed seeing the small penises on white men.” she told him. Without hesitation or melodrama, Zara snapped the boxers to the floor and prepared his panties for him. “You'll feel very comfortable in this!” she said.
Miles gritted his teeth as the panties moved over his privates, first pressing his testicles before hiding his penis behind a thin but soft piece of fabric. His “manhood” felt secure balled up into its little pocket. The tightness, like a hand always gripping him, pacified and Miles. He quickly took to his new emasculated status. Next for him, was the hosiery. Miles kept an open mind. Zara explained it was to hide his leg hair since they didn't have time to shave them. When he heard the laughter coming from the living room, he quickly moved into them. The stockings felt soothing to his skin and they gripped his legs like a tight glove over his legs. Zara helped with heels and guided Miles on his feet. He felt awkward and afraid he'd stumble to the floor if he dared take a step. But Zara gave him tips to help keep him on his feet, walk slowly, use his hips to keep balance. Miles caught himself in the mirror and quickly turned away. Zara nodded and remembered the wig!
Zara put the red wig, its hair down past his shoulders, on his head. Miles whined but Zara quickly hushed him with a hand on his ass. “This will make you complete.” she lectured. Miles had no resistance left and stared at the red head in the mirror. She was a little rough looking but sexual and emotionally vulnerable. Zara put a drop of perfume she had gotten him on the tip of her forefinger and ran it down behind each off Miles's ear. “Let me look at you.” she asked.
Miles's heart raced. He would do anything Zara asked of him. Including letting Zara find black lovers for his wife daily, if needed. Zara stepped back, smirked and raised an eyebrow. “How beautiful, you are! Free from competing sexually. You look so good removed from our gene pool!” she told him. Miles felt confused at Zara's clinical opinion of his wardrobe. But he didn't have time to think about his ego when Zara instructed him to walk around the room.
Red-faced, Miles stumbled one step after the other. With each step he found confidence and quickly comfort being in his new clothes. Zara made a mini-clap with her hands and walked up to Miles. She put her palms on his cheeks and smiled at him, “You did wonderful!” she said as another burst of laughter came from the living room. Zara added, “This is life under Black Power!” but Miles didn't know if she was talking about Amanda's guest or his outfit.
Zara took Miles by the hand and led him to the bedroom door, “Let's go show Amanda!” Miles tried to stand his ground. But with the stilettos, he didn't have the footing to stop Zara from moving him off closer to the doorway. “But, but … I thought I was just wearing it for you!” he stuttered.
“It's time to show you're not the man of the house.” Zara explained and never before had Miles felt small and ashamed. He knew he would step out and parade in front of his wife and lover. Zara and Miles saw everything from the edge of the living room. Amanda was naked, on her elbows and knees on the couch with her back arched. She was bobbing her head over her black lover's cock. Miles immediately recognized him as Kwame, the “destroyer of marriages”, and the man who saved Amanda from a life of a monogamy. Amanda looked serious and porn-like, pleasing Kwame with the sluttiest blowjob she could. Kwame was first to notice Zara and the red-head. Kwame smirked and grinned at Miles and his new social status. Amanda lifted her head and turned to her husband. She stared at him for one, cold second . Unimpressed and disinterested in her husband, she turned back to Kwame and resumed sucking cock.
“Don't they make a beautiful couple?” whispered Zara, “Stand over there and watch. Be happy for your wife. Be happier for the black man.” said Zara. Meanwhile, Amanda spat on Kwame's cock and told the room, “Gawd-damn! I love black dick!”
Zara left Miles to stand by himself in the corner as she commanded. Zara walked to the couch, knelt, and put her hand on Amanda's pale, firm ass. Zara sighed in pleasure, “So wonderful when a black man gets pussy!” Amanda lifted her head and planted a kiss on Kwame's mouth. When their lips parted, Amanda told him, “Black man deserves to win every fucking day!”
Zara pushed a finger inside Amanda's wet pussy. She turned her finger waiting for Amanda to react. Amanda let out a loud gasp, “Fuck racism!” Zara smiled ear to ear, “Yeah! This pussy belongs to the black man! For black power, Amanda! Black power!”
Amanda started panting, “Black power … fuck the white race ...”
Kwame nodded again in pleasure, both sexual and racial. He wanted more and put his hand on Amanda's head. He wanted to see Zara naked and told her to strip. Zara smiled and followed the black man's order. It was his world.
Miles, the feminine red head, couldn't resist. With his right hand he reached into his panties and tugged on his penis. It was hard, stiff, but a fraction of size of a real man's like Kwame. When Kwame took to his feet, Miles understood penetration of his wife was coming soon. The room got a good look at the handsome gentleman. Kwame was athletic, an attractive 30 year old sporting a shallow beard and a toned chest. Kwame and Zara kissed as Amanda was put on her hands and knees on the couch. Zara offered to grip Kwame's cock and help guide it into Amanda's pussy. Kwame put in a quick thrust and plopped his manhood into Amanda's womb.
Amanda moaned. Zara gasped. Kwame grunted. All three celebrated together. Miles pulled on his penis and squeezed his testicles with a single hand, needing only four fingers. He struggled with his libido and squeezed a breast through his padded bra. Kwame put his hands on Amanda's hips and made rhythmic pushes. They were strong, passionate, and with stamina. Kwame's manhood, over 10 and a half inches of it, made home inside Amanda's womb. Miles could see the look on his wife's satisfied face. She was in heaven. “Fuck me, Kwame! Fuck me, I love you!” Amanda said.
Zara stood again and gave Kwame a big kiss while he grabbed one of Zara's breasts. Miles was jealous. Zara's breasts looked so full and beautiful. He would sit though his wife getting gang-banged if he could only squeeze her breast but for one second.
“Want that white pussy! Want that white pussy!” Kwame yelled. His display of male dominance made Zara wet, Amanda moan, and Miles's balls shrink. For several more minutes, the couple continued their pace of penetrating intercourse. On occasion, Kwame slapped across Amanda's ass or called her a “slut” or “white whore”. The more dirty the names, the harder she came.
Feeling overheated and dizzy, Miles stepped back into the wall with a hand still down his panties. He couldn't stop masturbating even when he saw Zara looking at him. Zara kept a straight, neutral expression, as if following a science experiment through. Miles watched, hoping Kwame would keep fucking his wife and make her more of a tramp than she already is.
It was Amanda's turn to ride Kwame as he sat on the couch. She straddled him, kissed him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Amanda impaled herself with his black dick and threw her head back. Kwame growled enjoying the uninhibited sexuality Amanda was displaying for him.
“I want to be a black man's whore! Oh, gawd … Kwame! Fuck me! Make me betray the white race!” she begged him. Kwame groped each of Amanda's breast and leaned in and bit one of her nipples. “Tell me you hate the white race! Tell me you're a slut for black cock!” he demanded.
“Uh-huh … I'm a black cock slut! I hate the white race! Fuck … me!” yelled Amanda who went into a violent orgasm. Kwame reached out his hands and grabbed the top edge of the couch, looked up, and roared like a mighty lion. Inside Amanda's pussy, was a spitting black cock filling her womb with hot, sticky gel, one thick stream after another. Amanda whined many times trying to recover.
Amanda collapsed to the side of the couch. Zara took to Kwame's cock and started sucking on it. Miles looked down and saw his hand was covered with sticky fluid. He had came in his panties. Miles wanted to retreat to the hallway bath. But in his heels he was too slow. Amanda called out to him. “Come here, white boy. Come here and lick my pussy.”
Zara agreed, nodded her head, and stared down Miles waiting for him to return to the couch. Amanda looked at her husband turned feminine red head, “Now!” she barked. Miles took a step in his heels towards the couch. Zara returned to giving attention to Kwame's cock.
Miles knelt at the couch between Amanda's legs. She spread them wide where he could see the thick gel inside and around her pussy. “Let Kwame see you eat his cum.” she wanted. Miles was in a stupor. He head was spinning and blindly did what he was told. He lowered his head, stuck out his tongue, and began lapping up the fresh, warm semen. It was organic, pungent and salty. Miles couldn't get enough of it.
Amanda moaned at the sensation cucking her husband. “Feels so right. There's only one man in this house and he's … black.” said Amanda. She looked over at Kwame who had his eyes closed while Zara was making slurping sounds between his legs. When Miles heard the woman laugh, laughing at him, he knew he was finished. He felt embarrassed again. Even Kwame smiled and shook his head. Miles shook off the heels off his feet and hurried out the room. He couldn't move fast enough leaving the laughter behind.
Miles went into his bedroom, threw off his wig and removed all of his girl clothes. He searched for his boxers and put them on. Strangely, they felt uncomfortable, pinching on his balls. He decided to walk around naked. Ducking into the bathroom, he
spat into the sink but he had already swallowed all cum his tongue had found. Just thinking about the taste made his penis hard again. He tried to free himself from the lust cum eating had brought him by rinsing his mouth. The stinging sensation from the mouthwash wasn't welcomed. He much preferred Kwame's taste. Miles realized he was becoming confused. His penis was hard again wanting his hand to make friends with.
Miles had noticed the house was silent. No one was talking, no one was walking, no one was laughing. He threw on a t-shirt and pajama pants, Miles carefully stepped back into the hallway. His guess was true. Amanda had left the house with Zara and Kwame without even a word to her husband. Miles didn't know it at the time but Amanda decided to spend the night in the arms of a real man who can take care of her sexual needs. That night would be Kwame's turn. Miles found his heels next to the couch. He flipped off the lights and made sure the curtains were drawn closed. He stepped into the shoes and balanced himself on its stilettos. Miles pulled his t-shirt off and pushed down his pj bottoms and stepped out of them. Standing naked in the middle of the room in only heels, he thought about how Zara described him as “out of the gene pool” and free from sexually competing with alpha-men. Miles had visions of black cock pushing inside his wife. He felt it was time and masturbated, moaning freely working for release.
Alone, but not lonely, he had his right hand and the dreams of black power to keep him company. He whispered at first. They were words describing his new love, “... black cock ...” He bellowed loud and proudly, “BLACK COCK!” and a stream of cum spat of his penis across the floor. Miles recovered, keeping his knees from buckling and putting him to the floor. He put his hand over his mouth in a gesture of helplessness. But he wound up smelling the cum I his hand. Miles tried to rationalize why he would say those two words aloud. But just thinking about those two words made his penis twitch again. He was in disbelief how much power and excitement the two words stirred within him. Miles gave up on himself and on his own masculinity. He had no other choice but to grab his twitching member and started masturbating again. “... black cock … black cock ...”
Curious what's next with Amanda and Miles? Follow Bazaar drama: White wife, black student Part 3
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.
Set after Progressive couple make a sacrifice and Amanda's sacrifice, the open-minded, racism-fighting duo steps up their efforts to raise the status of the black race at the expense of their marriage comforts. While the wife, Amanda, has proven herself as a dedicated racial justice advocate, it is time her husband, Miles, sacrifices more.
BLACK POWER!
BLACK POWER!
BLACK POWER!
Late night, and the auditorium of The Black Power Movement was filled with a beautifully, racially diverse crowd. And how they roared! In unison, they celebrated every spoken word with their pledge, their oath to defeat white racism in all its forms. They prayed for black supremacy in government, education, and social and reproduction decisions.
Amanda giggled like a drunken school girl. She stood on her toes and raised her right fist in symbolic union with the advocacy group. Amanda and many other followers filled the headquarters hall facing the podium. "Fuck our race!" cried a white woman in the crowd. The audience applauded and another followed, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" The audience cheered louder. Amanda clapped her hands at the sexual offering the woman had made. Everyone approved. The crowd went into a euphoric frenzy celebrating racial victories over white people, its culture, and its intolerance.
Miles, Amanda's husband, stood not too far away and watched silently as one black man after an another approached her. Amanda seemed to enjoy the attention. She freely returned hugs and said nothing when the men groped her ass and breasts. Amanda even offered kisses to the most aggressive. She enjoyed the flavor of tongues from dominant, black men.
When the esteemed Akin Kalu, took his place behind the podium, he was looked to as a god. A tall black god dressed in African-style clothes. The gentleman in his 40's was blessed with a voice as smooth as a religious leader. The great Mr. Kalu was leading a religion. His devout followers were committed to black empowerment, black supremacy.
"My blessed people, this moment will be celebrated. Your promise, your oath to our race must be consummated. Our strong, brave black men will embrace white women and together fight the evils of white racism!" said Akin and crowd reacted to the very mention of white racism.
"Fuck white racism! The white race is motha-fuckin' evil!" booed the crowd.
Amanda, like many others, made a "thumbs down" gesture over her head before clapping with both hands. One could see the anguish in her face with the mention of racism. With her voice and her body, she pleaded for permanent solutions to the inequities the color of her skin was responsible for.
"As Chair of the Black Power Movement, I ask ... no, I demand ... the white women here seek out black men and discuss race with them well into the morning. To the progressive white men who joined our cause, step back and stay silent." said Akin. And the crowd erupted again chanting justice on the white men. "Stay the fuck away!" many women chanted. The black men in the room stood confidently and made quiet fists to each other.
When Akin finished, the room went into a panic as the white women hurried to find black men to "discuss race" with. Miles understood. It was his place to go wait patiently inside his SUV. For Amanda, a trusted follower and member of the BPM, her night of obligations only began. She was personally escorted to another suite where she would practice proven techniques in defeating racism.
Suite number "3", was the organization's "party room" and only accessible through the back lot door. Only the top, most important and influential members of the BPM were invited. The room resembled a smaller disco-tech complete with a small stage and stripper pole. Along the walls were couches and love seats, all occupied with grinding flesh, black and white, making it a ceremony of racial bonding.
Naked, Amanda was busy on her hands and knees. On one of the couches, she bobbed her head on black cock, serving the race she adored. Grabbing her hips, was another male member of the BPM relieving his stress on her. Every woman in the room was devoting her body to the cause. There were three men for every white girl and nothing could stop the love happening. On the "stripper stage" were two (legally-aged) teenage girls. They were sisters, topless, in high-heels and g-strings. They gyrated to the rap music and its explicit lyrics. They lightly groped each other's breasts and kissed. The girls looked down from stage at how their mother volunteered. The sisters waited patiently for their turn.
The white women came from many background and age. There was a college student, a mother, a doctor, and of course, Amanda. She was 26 years old with dark blonde hair to her shoulders. She had a very nice body with an ass worth looking at and grab. And many men were grabbing it that night. The men were clearly in control and calmly voiced, "Black power" and "Justice". For the women, they grunted and groaned. Cock, black cock, was pushing making room in mouths and wombs. It was a glorious display of interracial harmony. Amanda, when her mouth wasn't full, would become vocal and beg, "I want cock", and "fuck my race". One after another would take their turns pushing their manhood inside of her. They had a mission to 'fuck' every women in the room. Amanda was wet, willing, and acted the slut she needed to be. All for fighting racism.
The orgy went on for nearly two and half hours and concluded with the racial sacrifice of the two teen-aged girls. They were brought down from the stage and each serviced two black men. The women, including their mother, watched and cheered being most happy for the men. Amanda, with two loads of sperm in her pussy, about had another orgasm just watching the power displayed in front of her. The girls were neither shy nor bashful. They came to the celebration with an understanding and accepted their place. Their mother put her hands together in front of her nose and began crying. She never had been more proud as a white woman giving her ********* to the Movement. Her girls had proved they were not racists and made a life-long dedication to black supremacy.
When the girls vowed to be whores for the black man, they were rewarded with streams of cum in their mouths and pussies. The release of black prowess made the room applaud again. The white women in the room welcomed the girls to a blacked life with many open mouthed, lesbian kisses.
Outside, waiting in his SUV, Miles sat obediently waiting for his wife. In the back lot, parked near a trash dumpster, he spent nearly three hours sitting on his sore ass. He entertained himself watching the small number of black men and white women congregating outside. They would laugh, smoke weed, and the girls suggestively danced for their amusement. Miles tried not to pay attention to the groping for it would make him think what was happening to Amanda inside the suite.
When Amanda stepped out through the door, Miles perked up. She had trouble walking in a straight line and her hair was messed up and sticky. She carried her shoes in her hands and made it to the SUV barefoot. The routine was usual, Amanda would climb in, Miles would start the engine, and he would drive her home, no questions asked. But Amanda was especially worked up. She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, and quietly giggled to herself in her stupor. Miles couldn't help but to look at his wife and how she parted her legs in her seat. He wondered how many men used her.
Returning to their home in “middle suburbia”, Miles helped Amanda out of the SUV from their garage into their home through the kitchen. Amanda dropped her shoes to the kitchen floor and grabbed her husband by his collar and hurried to her bedroom. “Take off the clothes, take off your motha-fucking clothes!” she demanded. Meanwhile, she stripped off her own, smelling like used sex and pushed Miles to the bed with him only in his boxers by then.
Amanda climbed on top of him and pushed her pussy into Miles's face while facing his feet. Anticipating the sweaty, smearing lust, Miles gripped Amanda's ass and parted his lips. Smelling the musk, the spent lust of many black men in that room, his masculinity took a beating and he first felt queasy. Amanda grabbed his crotch through his cotton boxers and demanded his submission, “Eat my black-owned pussy!” When she felt a tender kiss followed by a swipe from his tongue, she made a high pitched squeal. “Oh, my gawd! Oh, my gawd! The black man wins again!” she yelled in almost disbelief. Amanda pushed herself into Miles's face with one thrust after the other. “Taste that cum.” she told him, “That's black power! Black power!” she celebrated. Miles's surrender of masculinity was complete. He was not only pleasing his wife, but an active participant in racial healing. Miles felt he didn't have to do as much as Amanda to support black supremacy. This was an acceptable act to help achieve social and racial justice. The white race deserved many moments of defeat to the greater, beautiful black race.
With several clutches of her husband's stiff, but small, penis through his boxers, it didn't take much effort for him to “pop”. Amanda felt the jerks and wet dribbles soaking through the fabric. She gave his crotch a couple hard palms, “That's way more than you deserve, white boy!” she told him. Amanda lifted her body off and above her husband's face leaving a bridge of spit and cum between his lips and her pussy. Amanda panted and rolled around laying next to her husband. They enjoyed the moment of marital and racial bliss before he would go to his own bedroom.
Miles, laid silent, appreciative of having his wife to himself. He thought long and hard how their liberal values led to this lifestyle. As an environmental impact researcher, Miles had a proud, left-leaning life that allowed him to work remotely. He was paid handsomely to come up with reasons to halt construction projects at any cost. Miles had discovered endangered rodents, invasive plants only native to Asia, and colonies of termites that blocked new residential homes, mass transit hubs, and even a children's hospital from construction. When he and Amanda discovered The Black Power Movement, they were drawn to their message of political and social change. Trusting the black race with their marriage seemed the natural thing to do to distinguish themselves from white do-gooders, who were no different than the racists if they didn't offer change in their lifestyle and openly sacrifice something valuable in their white, privileged lives. Therefore, the progressive couple sacrificed Amanda's vow of monogamy.
The white, married couple put their minds in fighting racism. Amanda opened her heart and her legs to black men as a modest gesture to atone sins of her race. Like many women her age, she grew tired of stagnated progress of racial justice and blamed white men for standing in the way. She was proud of breaking old barriers, including white cultural morals that kept the two races from finding an understanding and bond. Amanda discovered that black men had so much to offer with their power, stamina, and charisma she fell in love with them and embraced sex as the only method to repair racial mistrust. Miles, was so much a dedicated progressive, his veins bled soy milk. The days of an outspoken white man was long over, he thought. Miles never stood in the way or tried to dissuade Amanda from taking the path from an eager, optimistic wife to the racial justice activist and black cock slut. His liberal guilt would never question his surrender to the black race.
Miles, after the night in his own bed, could hear Amanda's giggles from the living room that next morning. He rolled over on his side pretending to not hear her guests and their deep voices. From the laughter, Miles figured there were at least two other men in the house. He rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling when Amanda let out a high pitched squeal and giggles. After a few suspicious moments of silence, he heard the rap music blaring from the stereo. Miles knew he would get no more sleep.
Miles carefully opened the door to his bedroom and crept down the hall. He could hear Amanda spinning on her heels as she undressed for her two guests. The music lyrics were imitating life.
Take your clothes off, girl!
Take your clothes off.
Spin that ass around!
Spin that ass.
Amanda dropped her top and danced topless entertaining the men. Both men were dressed in pressed shirt and tie looking affluent and professional. Amanda pulled down her shorts and showed her bare ass, wearing nothing but a g-string. The men began to smile and nod. When Amanda peeled off her g-string showing off her shaved pussy, she looked over her shoulder at them and grinned, “Let's fight racism.” she whispered. She then spun around and straddled one of the them giving him a lap dance. Amanda welcomed the pair of greedy, black hands groping her breasts. She gyrated her hips feeling his bulge aching for freedom. Amanda leaned forward and gave him a warm kiss before pushing her tits into his face.
Amanda crawled off and stepped to the second man. She crawled on his lap in a reverse-cowgirl and pushed her ass into his crotch arousing his lust. She enjoyed feeling the fingers grip her waist wanting to pull her near in a manly trust with another. After she finished with her lap dances, she went to her knees and watched her guests quickly undress and black cocks sprung out. With an open mouth grin, Amanda nodded, waited to be used.
“You going to show us you're good, white girl?” one asked her. As Amanda got a good, intimate look at the black organs inches from her face, she answered, “Oh, yes! Let me show what a good, white girl I am!” Reaching out, she grabbed cocks in each hand. She went wide-eyed, staring at them in awe and disbelief. Together, she had over 20 inches of masculine lust in her hands. The purple cock-heads pushed closer to her face, closer to her lips. Amanda took a deep breath and could feel the power of the black race overcome her. She surrendered her soul to them and opened her mouth and tasted them. She chose the cock in her right hand first and wrapped her lips before sliding her wet tongue underneath. The organic flavor of manhood lust drunken her and she bobbed her head making a slurp-sound with spit starting to run out from her mouth. Meanwhile, she stroked the other with her left hand trying to keep her other lover patient. After a few, short moments, she switched putting the second cock in her mouth. The flavor was just as erotic but different and piqued her curiosity tasting different black men. A firm hand rubbed its fingers through her blonde hair as the room was filled with the heavy panting of two men. Or was it three?
From the hallway, Miles stood and watched, hypnotized by the display of racial dominance the men held over his wife. Miles's cock stiffened. His right hand reached down and gave it attention. “Suck that cock,white girl. Suck that cock.” said one of her black lovers. Amanda switched again, being the good, white girl she promised to be. She poked her nose into black balls and started licking them like a whore drawing a louder moan out of him. Miles heart sunk into his stomach seeing his wife behave this way. While his liberal heart cheered at the racial atonement and togetherness this was making, he couldn't help but to feel weak and jealous. Amanda would never do this for him.
After Amanda spat on the cock in her left hand, she noticed her husband spying, watching, masturbating. She casually called out to him, “Come close, dear. Watch your wife serve the black man.” Naturally, Miles did what his wife said. Amanda looked at her black lovers, “You don't mind if my cuckold watches?” she asked. The men shook their head. One even taunted Miles and told him, “Yeah, watch us give your wife black dick! Pathetic, white cuck!” he scoffed.
Amanda laughed and made Miles feel small as his penis. “Fuck our race!” she told them. Miles got on his knees and watched his wife continue giving two strangers blow jobs. He couldn't peel his eyes off watching their heavy balls swing. Amanda instructed her husband to get completely naked and watch. “Don't miss a thing!” she warned him and began giving her husband an interracial sex show. The alpha males put Amanda on her hands and knees. As one was fucking her from behind, the other was fucking her mouth. Miles stroked his cock watching them use her. Submissive, she kept her position as her lovers motioned back and forth like pistons. They grunted and cursed. To them, she wasn't just a white girl to fuck and use. They were fucking her race. This was racial payback they looked forward to since the previous night's rally.
“Fuck! Fuck! Take you people down a few pegs! Fuck the white race!” one yelled as he pushed his cock into Amanda's wet cunt. The other lectured her, “Suck that cock! Suck that cock, slut!” The men turned dominant and extremely aggressive. “Their pussies belong to our black race, my brother!” one said to the other. The men forced Amanda to spin around and they swapped holes. The man now taking her pussy turned to Miles while grabbing his own cock, shaking it at him. “See this black dick? This is what your wife needs!” Miles couldn't help but watch Amanda get blacked by another black man. A stud. A bull. A superior lover who claimed Amanda's body for his pleasure.
“I live for black cock! I love black cock! I need black cock!” yelled Amanda removing all doubt that what mattered to her most. For several more minutes the men continued their thrusting, fucking motions into Amanda's holes.
“Tell your husband, no white dick for you ever!” demanded the lover in front of her. Amanda plopped cock out of her mouth and turned to him, “I'm sorry, baby. My white pussy is for black men only!” Miles could only masturbate in his racial weakness. Having two cocks inside her and witnessing her husband's racial surrender, sent Amanda over the edge. She climaxed in a mind-altering orgasm that furthered re-wired her brain.
When the men pulled their organs out of Amanda, they wanted her to roll on her back. As they stroked their cocks, Amanda called for her husband to lay beside her. With their heads touching, the married couple looked up watching two, dark figures stand above them. From the floor, they looked tall and god-like. Stroking their black cocks, they began to huff and whine. Miles closed his eyes but Amanda elbowed him in the ribs. It started as small droplets until globs of thick goo spat out of their cock-heads. Amanda and Miles felt warm rain of semen drop on their faces, necks, and chests. The men stepped backwards, sexually and racially satisfied. Amanda wiped her face with her palms and began licking them clean. She then turned to her breasts to scoop up the precious nectar. Miles, laid still, hoping the experience didn't really had happened. But Amanda rolled over and began licking his face clean before giving him a deep, open-mouthed kiss. The flavor of two real men, two alpha-males, were like high-proof liquor to Miles. Overly strong, almost unbearable, but certainly addictive.
Amanda smiled, looking at her husband, “I just love fighting racism!”
Three hours had passed. Amanda had showered and awoken from her nap. Miles went to work on his laptop in the kitchen, looking on new development to ruin. Work distracted him from the life married to a hyper-sexualized woman. It wouldn't be so bad if he could have some pussy once in a while. He was naive thinking it was just a phase and it would be his turn someday to get between her legs and deposit some of his sperm inside of her. Miles clenched his fist and cursed himself for the selfish, almost politically incorrect thoughts. For a second, he thought like a conservative. He shook off his selfishness and got a glass of soy milk and came up with a new approach to end a Children's Hospital in the Inner City.
There was a knock at the door and Amanda volunteered to answer. The conversation at the front door didn't last long and Amanda returned into the kitchen with a package. “It's a box, from Zara.” she told Miles. Miles' fingers froze at the very name and word of “Zara”. Zara's beauty, from the first night she introduced Amanda to black men, was permanently branded in his head. While Amanda was an extremely attractive woman, Zara was that and more. And Miles knew that Zara knew he had an eye for her.
“It's sexy clothes!” said Amanda as she opened the package. The couple looked inside and rummaged through red panties, stockings, a pair of heels, and a padded bra. There was also a red wig and a small vial of an expensive line of perfume. “I don't know what Zara has planned for me. The shoes and panties are not quite my size but the wig makes it kinky. I wonder what she's trying to tell me with the padded bra. You don't think my titties are too small, do you?” Amanda asked Miles who shrugged his shoulders. “Strange gift.” he opined.
Amanda's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and stepped out into the living room. All Miles made out was “Hi, Zara!”. Miles couldn't help but run his hand through the box of stuff. If this is something Zara wanted out of Amanda, he would be helpless to stop them. He put the panties to his nose hoping it was something Zara had worn. But all he smelled was a clean, fresh scent. He tuned his ears to Amanda's voice, curious to know what Zara wanted.
“Wait … you want to fuck Miles? But he's white.” whispered Amanda. That made Miles instantly aroused. But it sounded too good to be true. It was.
“Oh, you want to see Miles fucked?” Amanda followed. Miles' attention peaked.
Amanda returned to the kitchen and began to giggle. “That was Zara! The stuff in the box, it's all for you!” she told Miles. Miles dropped the panties, in his size, and his mouth opened. “Yeah, I know. We both want to see you in it when we get together tonight.” Amanda explained. Miles felt small and wanted to hide in a deep, dark corner. Amanda lifted the bra in front of Miles imagining how he would look in it. “I can't wait to see you in this!”
Miles showed a rare moment of protest and rejected the opportunity for racial justice. He dared to not accept Zara's presents and told his wife he would not get into women's clothing. Amanda pouted, “This would be a beautiful gesture in racial understanding. Shed your toxic, white masculinity. Let the black man be 'the man'.” she suggested. But Miles still objected. Amanda huffed and quickly grew tired of Miles' intolerance. “Is it your white ego? What do you think I give up when I get fucked? You just sit there and watch your wife and bask in the racial justice that I make with black men. It's fine time you make more sacrifices!” Amanda turned and wouldn't say another word until Zara arrived.
Zara arrived late in the evening at Amanda's house. Amanda greeted her and the girls hugged. They both were dressed in high heels, tight shorts, and a revealing blouse. Amanda chose to wear black while Zara picked out an outfit in red. “He'll be here in a little while.” Zara told Amanda who was anxious to hear more. Zara continued, “He's really horny and told me he's ready to fuck you up!”
Amanda was gushing and told Zara, “I really want to help them out.” Zara put her hand on Amanda's chin, “Remember what I taught you. With an open heart, an open mouth and legs, can we win the black man's trust and realize racial harmony.”
Amanda smiled and was in glee, telling Zara, “Gawd, yes. It's the least I can do. I want to do so much more for them.” Zara nodded, “With white racism, it's the only way.” However, Amanda had to confess her husband was more than a little hesitant wearing the outfit Zara gave him. Amanda's smile disappeared and she suddenly felt shame speaking of Miles' intolerance and hints of racism. “We've achieved so much! I can't he'd let something as important as this reverse all the gains we made with our marriage.” Zara winked at Amanda, “Let me speak with him.” she asked. Amanda told Zara she'd find Miles “sulking in his bedroom.”
Miles sat on his bed feeling frustrated. His outfit left scattered on the bed sheets behind him. He heard someone stepping up to his door, a couple knocks, and a “Hello, can I come in?” Miles turned and saw the smile of a beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous blonde. Zara helped herself inside and made Miles feel weak and intimidated when Zara closed the door behind her.
“I see you received my gifts? Were you thinking about wearing them … for me?” she asked, smiling, assuming an answer of 'yes'. Miles cleared his throat, “Well, about that. I don't think I'll feel very comfortable in them ...” he complained.
Zara began casually unbuttoning her blouse, revealing she was without a bra. She stopped when a little nipple could be seen when Miles took a peek. “I think you'll be very comfortable in them, if you just give it a try. Will you do it … for me? Please?” begged Zara in a sly, seductive voice. Zara pulled on her blouse and showed Miles her breasts. She realized she caught Miles' attention and raised her eyebrows demanding an answer. She saw that Miles admired them and said, “Yeah?”
Miles wanted so much to please Zara but he shook his silently shook his head. Zara upped the stakes, “I'll masturbate in front of you while you dress.” she offered. Miles' resistance was weakening. He began considering the offer. It might feel good to be in women's panties for a while. Then he saw the wig and decided he didn't want to be 'her'. He shook his head again feeling small and embarrassed. Zara closed her blouse, crossed her legs, and looked into the corner. In no longer it takes to snap fingers, she turned cold and sterile. “Listen, Miles. Amanda wants to spend more time with her black lovers. She told me she needs time alone with them on nights, weekends, even go on long trips. If you don't show you're just as committed to racial justice as she, I'm afraid divorce is around the corner and you'll be replaced by a black man in this house.
Miles looked down and felt empty inside. He didn't know what to say. Zara sat down next to him and put her arm around her shoulders, “She made real a commitment to racial justice, will you?” Miles didn't need long to think about it and nodded. “Good,” smiled Zara, “Let me help you get out of these clothes. You shouldn't have to feel you need to compete with real alpha males.”
Ding-ding! The door bell went off. Zara clutched Miles's shoulder and told him, “Amanda's date is here.” Zara whispered into his hear and teased him terribly, “Your wife begged me to get her dick tonight. She really enjoys fighting racism.”
With a tender kiss out of pity on his earlobe, she brightened up and said, “Let's hurry getting you ready!”
Zara helped Miles' out of his “masculine” clothes. Zara didn't give him time freely being bare chested and quickly wrapped his breasts and nipples with a bra. Miles felt embarrassed when he quickly sported an erection just as Zara tugged at the waistband of his underwear. “It's okay. Don't be embarrassed. I'm accustomed seeing the small penises on white men.” she told him. Without hesitation or melodrama, Zara snapped the boxers to the floor and prepared his panties for him. “You'll feel very comfortable in this!” she said.
Miles gritted his teeth as the panties moved over his privates, first pressing his testicles before hiding his penis behind a thin but soft piece of fabric. His “manhood” felt secure balled up into its little pocket. The tightness, like a hand always gripping him, pacified and Miles. He quickly took to his new emasculated status. Next for him, was the hosiery. Miles kept an open mind. Zara explained it was to hide his leg hair since they didn't have time to shave them. When he heard the laughter coming from the living room, he quickly moved into them. The stockings felt soothing to his skin and they gripped his legs like a tight glove over his legs. Zara helped with heels and guided Miles on his feet. He felt awkward and afraid he'd stumble to the floor if he dared take a step. But Zara gave him tips to help keep him on his feet, walk slowly, use his hips to keep balance. Miles caught himself in the mirror and quickly turned away. Zara nodded and remembered the wig!
Zara put the red wig, its hair down past his shoulders, on his head. Miles whined but Zara quickly hushed him with a hand on his ass. “This will make you complete.” she lectured. Miles had no resistance left and stared at the red head in the mirror. She was a little rough looking but sexual and emotionally vulnerable. Zara put a drop of perfume she had gotten him on the tip of her forefinger and ran it down behind each off Miles's ear. “Let me look at you.” she asked.
Miles's heart raced. He would do anything Zara asked of him. Including letting Zara find black lovers for his wife daily, if needed. Zara stepped back, smirked and raised an eyebrow. “How beautiful, you are! Free from competing sexually. You look so good removed from our gene pool!” she told him. Miles felt confused at Zara's clinical opinion of his wardrobe. But he didn't have time to think about his ego when Zara instructed him to walk around the room.
Red-faced, Miles stumbled one step after the other. With each step he found confidence and quickly comfort being in his new clothes. Zara made a mini-clap with her hands and walked up to Miles. She put her palms on his cheeks and smiled at him, “You did wonderful!” she said as another burst of laughter came from the living room. Zara added, “This is life under Black Power!” but Miles didn't know if she was talking about Amanda's guest or his outfit.
Zara took Miles by the hand and led him to the bedroom door, “Let's go show Amanda!” Miles tried to stand his ground. But with the stilettos, he didn't have the footing to stop Zara from moving him off closer to the doorway. “But, but … I thought I was just wearing it for you!” he stuttered.
“It's time to show you're not the man of the house.” Zara explained and never before had Miles felt small and ashamed. He knew he would step out and parade in front of his wife and lover. Zara and Miles saw everything from the edge of the living room. Amanda was naked, on her elbows and knees on the couch with her back arched. She was bobbing her head over her black lover's cock. Miles immediately recognized him as Kwame, the “destroyer of marriages”, and the man who saved Amanda from a life of a monogamy. Amanda looked serious and porn-like, pleasing Kwame with the sluttiest blowjob she could. Kwame was first to notice Zara and the red-head. Kwame smirked and grinned at Miles and his new social status. Amanda lifted her head and turned to her husband. She stared at him for one, cold second . Unimpressed and disinterested in her husband, she turned back to Kwame and resumed sucking cock.
“Don't they make a beautiful couple?” whispered Zara, “Stand over there and watch. Be happy for your wife. Be happier for the black man.” said Zara. Meanwhile, Amanda spat on Kwame's cock and told the room, “Gawd-damn! I love black dick!”
Zara left Miles to stand by himself in the corner as she commanded. Zara walked to the couch, knelt, and put her hand on Amanda's pale, firm ass. Zara sighed in pleasure, “So wonderful when a black man gets pussy!” Amanda lifted her head and planted a kiss on Kwame's mouth. When their lips parted, Amanda told him, “Black man deserves to win every fucking day!”
Zara pushed a finger inside Amanda's wet pussy. She turned her finger waiting for Amanda to react. Amanda let out a loud gasp, “Fuck racism!” Zara smiled ear to ear, “Yeah! This pussy belongs to the black man! For black power, Amanda! Black power!”
Amanda started panting, “Black power … fuck the white race ...”
Kwame nodded again in pleasure, both sexual and racial. He wanted more and put his hand on Amanda's head. He wanted to see Zara naked and told her to strip. Zara smiled and followed the black man's order. It was his world.
Miles, the feminine red head, couldn't resist. With his right hand he reached into his panties and tugged on his penis. It was hard, stiff, but a fraction of size of a real man's like Kwame. When Kwame took to his feet, Miles understood penetration of his wife was coming soon. The room got a good look at the handsome gentleman. Kwame was athletic, an attractive 30 year old sporting a shallow beard and a toned chest. Kwame and Zara kissed as Amanda was put on her hands and knees on the couch. Zara offered to grip Kwame's cock and help guide it into Amanda's pussy. Kwame put in a quick thrust and plopped his manhood into Amanda's womb.
Amanda moaned. Zara gasped. Kwame grunted. All three celebrated together. Miles pulled on his penis and squeezed his testicles with a single hand, needing only four fingers. He struggled with his libido and squeezed a breast through his padded bra. Kwame put his hands on Amanda's hips and made rhythmic pushes. They were strong, passionate, and with stamina. Kwame's manhood, over 10 and a half inches of it, made home inside Amanda's womb. Miles could see the look on his wife's satisfied face. She was in heaven. “Fuck me, Kwame! Fuck me, I love you!” Amanda said.
Zara stood again and gave Kwame a big kiss while he grabbed one of Zara's breasts. Miles was jealous. Zara's breasts looked so full and beautiful. He would sit though his wife getting gang-banged if he could only squeeze her breast but for one second.
“Want that white pussy! Want that white pussy!” Kwame yelled. His display of male dominance made Zara wet, Amanda moan, and Miles's balls shrink. For several more minutes, the couple continued their pace of penetrating intercourse. On occasion, Kwame slapped across Amanda's ass or called her a “slut” or “white whore”. The more dirty the names, the harder she came.
Feeling overheated and dizzy, Miles stepped back into the wall with a hand still down his panties. He couldn't stop masturbating even when he saw Zara looking at him. Zara kept a straight, neutral expression, as if following a science experiment through. Miles watched, hoping Kwame would keep fucking his wife and make her more of a tramp than she already is.
It was Amanda's turn to ride Kwame as he sat on the couch. She straddled him, kissed him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Amanda impaled herself with his black dick and threw her head back. Kwame growled enjoying the uninhibited sexuality Amanda was displaying for him.
“I want to be a black man's whore! Oh, gawd … Kwame! Fuck me! Make me betray the white race!” she begged him. Kwame groped each of Amanda's breast and leaned in and bit one of her nipples. “Tell me you hate the white race! Tell me you're a slut for black cock!” he demanded.
“Uh-huh … I'm a black cock slut! I hate the white race! Fuck … me!” yelled Amanda who went into a violent orgasm. Kwame reached out his hands and grabbed the top edge of the couch, looked up, and roared like a mighty lion. Inside Amanda's pussy, was a spitting black cock filling her womb with hot, sticky gel, one thick stream after another. Amanda whined many times trying to recover.
Amanda collapsed to the side of the couch. Zara took to Kwame's cock and started sucking on it. Miles looked down and saw his hand was covered with sticky fluid. He had came in his panties. Miles wanted to retreat to the hallway bath. But in his heels he was too slow. Amanda called out to him. “Come here, white boy. Come here and lick my pussy.”
Zara agreed, nodded her head, and stared down Miles waiting for him to return to the couch. Amanda looked at her husband turned feminine red head, “Now!” she barked. Miles took a step in his heels towards the couch. Zara returned to giving attention to Kwame's cock.
Miles knelt at the couch between Amanda's legs. She spread them wide where he could see the thick gel inside and around her pussy. “Let Kwame see you eat his cum.” she wanted. Miles was in a stupor. He head was spinning and blindly did what he was told. He lowered his head, stuck out his tongue, and began lapping up the fresh, warm semen. It was organic, pungent and salty. Miles couldn't get enough of it.
Amanda moaned at the sensation cucking her husband. “Feels so right. There's only one man in this house and he's … black.” said Amanda. She looked over at Kwame who had his eyes closed while Zara was making slurping sounds between his legs. When Miles heard the woman laugh, laughing at him, he knew he was finished. He felt embarrassed again. Even Kwame smiled and shook his head. Miles shook off the heels off his feet and hurried out the room. He couldn't move fast enough leaving the laughter behind.
Miles went into his bedroom, threw off his wig and removed all of his girl clothes. He searched for his boxers and put them on. Strangely, they felt uncomfortable, pinching on his balls. He decided to walk around naked. Ducking into the bathroom, he
spat into the sink but he had already swallowed all cum his tongue had found. Just thinking about the taste made his penis hard again. He tried to free himself from the lust cum eating had brought him by rinsing his mouth. The stinging sensation from the mouthwash wasn't welcomed. He much preferred Kwame's taste. Miles realized he was becoming confused. His penis was hard again wanting his hand to make friends with.
Miles had noticed the house was silent. No one was talking, no one was walking, no one was laughing. He threw on a t-shirt and pajama pants, Miles carefully stepped back into the hallway. His guess was true. Amanda had left the house with Zara and Kwame without even a word to her husband. Miles didn't know it at the time but Amanda decided to spend the night in the arms of a real man who can take care of her sexual needs. That night would be Kwame's turn. Miles found his heels next to the couch. He flipped off the lights and made sure the curtains were drawn closed. He stepped into the shoes and balanced himself on its stilettos. Miles pulled his t-shirt off and pushed down his pj bottoms and stepped out of them. Standing naked in the middle of the room in only heels, he thought about how Zara described him as “out of the gene pool” and free from sexually competing with alpha-men. Miles had visions of black cock pushing inside his wife. He felt it was time and masturbated, moaning freely working for release.
Alone, but not lonely, he had his right hand and the dreams of black power to keep him company. He whispered at first. They were words describing his new love, “... black cock ...” He bellowed loud and proudly, “BLACK COCK!” and a stream of cum spat of his penis across the floor. Miles recovered, keeping his knees from buckling and putting him to the floor. He put his hand over his mouth in a gesture of helplessness. But he wound up smelling the cum I his hand. Miles tried to rationalize why he would say those two words aloud. But just thinking about those two words made his penis twitch again. He was in disbelief how much power and excitement the two words stirred within him. Miles gave up on himself and on his own masculinity. He had no other choice but to grab his twitching member and started masturbating again. “... black cock … black cock ...”
Curious what's next with Amanda and Miles? Follow Bazaar drama: White wife, black student Part 3
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.
