He Saw Mommy Fucking
Written by Mkarl and Leta / Dec 21, 2000
He Saw 'Mommy' Fucking... 'Santa Claus' [M+m+/F, ir, slutwife, preg, Christmas, maybe some blasphemy too] by Leta with mkarl firstname.lastname@example.org
Chapter One: 'Twas the 'Nights' before Christmas
When I married Michael, I did love him... or at least his money anyhow. I guess. No... I think maybe I found him okay too. I didn't really know the family though until the wedding and that was when I discovered that the Knights were pretty much the biggest racists I had ever had the shame of meeting. I mean God, every other thing was 'nigger this' and 'nigger that,' and none of it in the good way either. The other thing that proved even more what the Knight family was all about is that all the awful jobs at the family owned plant were staffed with blacks while not a single afro-stud was in any management or supervisor situation. It was just so wrong.
I think Michael knew that I didn't approve at all but he was very pussy about the whole thing. I almost felt he was condescending to me when he explained how 'that was the way things were.'
It really was enough to fill me with a total sense of moral uprage. I had grown up right where my mother had taught me to be more accepting. My family hadn't had a lot of money after my daddy got disabled and had been forced to move across the tracks. I admit I had been a little apprehensive at first but things quickly changed and once Mom had been accepted into the community of the new neighborhood it wasn't long until I was old enough to accept the joys of all the abundant 'brotherly' love either.
In a way it was sort of difficult when Michael entered the picture. For someone in his family, it was odd for him to maybe even be over there in Africa with me. I guess it was for a business deal with him [how ironic is that anyhow... family business needed to rape the treasures of the dark continent cause they just couldn't get by without the good stuff?] Anyhow, I had 'volunteered' to do some missionary work to further my education in the African culture. I certainly wasn't over there expecting to meet any one to marry and I'm damn sure it was the last thing on Michael's mind in such a setting... but things happen.
Maybe they shouldn't.
When I met the Knight family, maybe I should have just told all those ass- wipes to take their money earned on the hard working backs of... their 'slaves' and... and...
The problem was; it was a lot of fucking money.
Michael didn't really just seem so really all that bad either... like for a white boy and everything. After all, I had met him in Africa and he did seem to agree with me when I protested the upside down situation at the plant [not that I did as I should have and told him that the blacks should have had all the poistions of superiority cause I could tell that would be too much right off the bat... I did want some of them to be rightfully in charge though. I was sure when Michael had a chance that things would change down there. God, was I ever naive.
So anyhow, we married four years ago. Yeah, I took the dirty Knight money for the last four, long, fruitless, boring years. I say boring cause after the first few weeks, Michael started devoting all his 'fucking' time to that damn family business. I say fruitless cause what little 'fucking' time I actually got with my 'true love' was just so damn useless as he was so very 'small and way too quick in the bad way' after what I was more... used too, that well... I tried to be a good wife, I really did and wanted to love my husband in the way a wife should, but the real thing was that it was four years of trying and still, there was no little heir to the family fortune on the way.
To save face, we hadn't told anyone we were even trying, but the stress had started to creak in, and finally Michael insisted I go to the clinic. Yeah, like I had ever had trouble getting breeded when I had a 'real' man to work with?!?
Anyhow, like I already knew, all the clinic confirmed is that if anything, I was about as extra fertile as any little breeding machine could be. It was just a damn good thing I hadn't been allergic to the pill back living with Mom or we would have had to use even more of Dad's disability money to look after those unexpected additions to the family that she, herself had surprised the poor useless gimp with.
The problem was now, that my husband was the one who didn't work as far as the seed-and-garden show went. Boy, that seemed to really bother him too. I saw a side of Michael that I didn't like at all. Sure, I had been slapped around before, but that was so much different... like just sort of a territorial thing that showed me who the man was with a few of my earlier lovers teaching me the joys of subservitude. With my whiteboy husband though, it was all so damn pathetic and I sure didn't get any payoff pound-fucking to cap off little temper boy after he was done huffing and puffing away his inadequacies of manhood on my face.
If that wasn't pathetic enough, Michael turned into a total asshole at work too. He had never done what was right and treated the help any better like they deserved for earning all that money for the family, but now... it was all just like somehow even Michael could sense the incredible virility of all these muscled, black hunks and it made his own inadequacies absolutely puny in comparison [in more ways than one :)]
As much as it sort of did bring a smile to my face to see my well learned perception of what white boys were really all about get reaffirmed just like it had for how pathetic my Daddy had become years earlier, I also knew it wasn't quite the same thing with my dear hubby. With Daddy, the blacks had come into our home and Daddy had been on the couch, cause he wasn't of any use to Mommy anyhow... there had been a rightful order of things as nature intended with the survival of the fittest principal granting the breeding rights to the alpha male. But now, in that abomination of a sweat shop, little, power-mad Michael was wrongfully in the dominant position [even if he did have the bigger wallet, he certainly wasn't the 'bigger' man] and after four years of wanting it to change, I finally had to tell myself that enough-was-fucking-enough.
It was just coming up on Halloween when the shit was about to hit the fan for Michael [he would have loved that metaphor :)] but the problem was that I wasn't at a good time for the ultimate little bonus for my impotent hubby. I eagerly went to the calendar to plan a November to remember for my loving husband but there I saw he had that damn business trip on all the 'good' days. Sure, I could have just did some sort of video or something but what fucking fun would that have been? I wanted Michael to feel the sweat as I proved my truest love in the ultimate way of having a baby.
I have to admit my disappointment that stirred in my unfulfilled belly as I unhappily turned the page of that calendar a second time, but as I counted off the days again, I couldn't believe what a wondrous and magical opportunity that was to be mine. What better time to give Michael this present I had intended for him than in the real season of 'Brotherly Love?'
Even if I knew my long neglected pussy would be hard to wait for so long, I had gone over four years denying myself any real satisfaction at all, so a couple more months wouldn't be that bad... I would just have to hold off the retirement party for my toys in the dresser drawl a little longer was all.
Actually, it was kind of good to have the extra time too to savor the upcoming cum-uppence for my Michael. It gave me an opportunity to play things out in my mind again and again for better planning of just what to do, as everytime I thought about things it made me damp my panties and have to go get out 'Black Beauty' from my dresser drawl.' As I let my toy do my husband's failed duty after his own five second special that one cold November morning, I got the greatest inspiration.
Michael certainly hadn't wasted any time that morning with me so as I got up, after wiping away the impotent offerings and stepping back into my panties and a robe, I headed out to the kitchen to do 'my duties' getting hubby fed and off to work. It was out there in our morning dance that Michael had an opportunity to be the one to plant the idea back into my head with his very own words.
I'm not even sure how it all came up but I guess the local mall had hired a black man to play Santa this year [or as Michael told me, those damn liberals have themselves a coon for Santa.] Of course, I quickly protested the language but Michael had only used it to piss me anyhow and he kept it up as he explained how important the mall Santa Claus was to him as a kid and how upsetting it would be for the children to see some nigger in the uniform. Niggers didn't give toys, they broke into the home and stole what you had.
I was so mad at Michael, that I spit in his coffee, maybe wishing that it was some black stud's freshly sucked sperm that I was sharing with the asshole. Soon...
When Michael was finally out the door, I went right to get 'Black Beauty.' It had been a shower gift from my Mom since she had warned me what it would be like being married to a little dicked, white boy after what I had gotten used too... I had kind of just giggled with her and the other white girls of the old neighborhood but I had never really realized just how much use my toy would get from the very first night when Michael had gotten a little too drunk and hadn't even been able to get it up to give his bride her wedding night honors.
Damn, that had been a close one...
When I had agreed to marry Michael, I had told Mom that unless she could find a way to get her men to wear a condom that Dad's little disability check just wasn't going to be enough to feed all those mouths she was popping out every nine months. Mom had just laughed at that and told me that niggers didn't use any damn rubbers with their willing white trash ho's [Mom used the nigger term too... she said that used right it was an empowering word. I guess it is and I know many times I have found it right to use too... just not the ignorant way Michael ever uses it] anyhow, of course, I already knew that no stud would ever use any rubber which is why I had gone on the pill after that first time when I had got myself knocked up, but Mom couldn't use the pill, and we all knew that she would never get to use any diaphragm or anything, plus, it sure went without saying that none of us would hear any of that shit about abortions [except Daddy who I think never did quite get used to all the little mulatto bastards with his name] These were babies of pure love all-in-all though and I wanted Mom to have as many as she wished for, so I told her I would marry Michael and use his money to help with my brothers and sisters whatever Dad's disability check wouldn't provide for.
It was a little... weird, when Mom told me it wasn't fair to do that to Michael. Like why should we care what happened to some well off honkey exploiting the black man? At the time though, I, myself, still didn't know who my intended hubby really was so it did have to be Mom I thought was really the funny one. She said with Dad that she didn't have a choice how things turned out. Dad had made his own bed, failing as a man to provide enough to keep us where we started. He had been the one who moved the family to temptation island [so to speak] and when nature took over, it had all been properly rightful. Mom didn't want me going into a promise under God where I was set out to be deceitful though... I had to admit, being a good God faring woman, I had to realize that she was right.
As much as it meant I was damned, I had to agree. God blessed us with the joys of his most darkly beautiful creations wanting to get into our white panties all the time, but if it was his will that to get the money I needed to help my family I must live in denial, than I would not take of the forbidden fruit while living under the rules of marital law.
Let me tell you though it sure hasn't been easy. Even that very first night when Michael hadn't even 'risen' to the occasion no matter how sore my knees had got in an attempt at inspiration to get my consumatory wedding night fuck. It was so awkward too. I hadn't even took off my dress yet. I thought it odd, as Michael carried me past the threshold that I didn't feel his 'salute' to me up against my body at all, and the moment when I reached down for the first 'handshake' I got just really disappointed.
Would anyone even believe me if I add at this point that Michael was one of them 'not till we're married boys?'
I had been so shocked when I found out he was a virgin... I guess I was in a way too, never having had a white boy, but still... Luckily though I had a little experience and even though usually any of my magnificent Afro-lovers would have had three or four goes at me before it ever would have been 'necessary' for me to be on my knees, I knew if I wanted any fireworks for my wedding night party caper, that I was going to have to drop and suck to see just what would be what.
I was both anxious and not really expecting too much from all what Mom told me about the days she used to sometimes be with Dad... like when she went with him to make me and stuff... I sure expected more than I got though from Michael.
Michael hadn't even thought I should get on my knees. Said he didn't think it was all that ladylike. Fuck that, I had been taught that a bitch's place is on her knees for her Master, and while Michael sure as hell could never measure up all the way, I was sure still hoping he could.
Luckily[?] I got my way as Michael was rightfully a bit humiliated at his 'little' problem on our wedding night there. So I had dutifully dropped to my knees and tried to use all my talents to perform the miracle but... [Just wish I had knee pads that first night, cause while I had put in a cocksucker's yeomen effort, Michael just never did salute my efforts.]
At the time, we eventually agreed it probably was just all the Champaign that night for Michael. I have to say that even these years later, maybe he never got over the five second problem but at least he was able to get it up usually when the situation arose [even if his 'big' dick, still wasn't never all that much more of a mouthful than on our wedding night.]
Whatever the problem was for the first night of my 'christening,' after nearly an hour and a half of paying 'lip-service' to the dimming hope, Michael finally got into some more Champaign to drown his first [of what would be many] failures, and before I knew it Michael was out for the night, and I still hadn't even gotten out of the white virginal promise dress yet.
Fuck! What was a new bride to do?
I had Black Beauty in the suitcase but it was just so pathetic. When Mom had told me to make sure I took it on the honeymoon, I had just about laughed... but, looking at Michael laying on the bed that was suppose to be shaking with my thralls of passion... laying there with that limp little dick that I knew wouldn't have been all that much bigger even if I had gotten it up... I almost got weak about that promise not to go back to black.
The hotel had a busboy... well, he wasn't much of a 'boy' at all. When he had carried the bags up to our room so that my hubby could play mister macho and carry me past the threshold, I had seen that this busboy was all more like buss- MAN. I know I had promised my Mom that I wouldn't turn my husband into a fool unless it was right, but this was my Goddamn wedding night and I needed it.
I rang for room service. I was so nervous. I had never been like that before. I mean one thing I had learnt from growing up is that a black stud is always ready to go. I certainly wasn't nervous for fear not getting a yes, for the servicing I needed in that honeymoon room. Maybe I was mostly worried that some other boy would answer my summons. Or maybe, it was that damn promise I made that I would live my marriage as God intended. Why the hell did he tempt us so though? I finally promised myself that if some other boy did go and brought up the bottle, than I wouldn't do anything.
Yeah, like that happened...
When Jamal knocked , I was at the door waiting and it was my pussy that vibrated with the anticipation of what might happen next. I actually crossed my fingers but I'm not sure what they crossed in hope of. Of course, it was Jamal standing there.
Coy nigger... even though I knew he was man enough to sense my heat, and opportunist enough to see 'hubby' on the bed passed out with his little limp dick, Jamal wasn't going to make it easy for me. "Heres yours Champaign, Mrs... Knight."
Fuck him! God, I practically was whimpering as I begged that gorgeous hunk what I needed. He was just a smiling at me but his words were like a knife killing every dream I had.
"They keeps me ons a leash here Mrs. Knight. You seems to bes a women who knows what thats be about. They donts wants me having the times with the white man's bride. If you goings to get yours satisfaction best be ons your knees now fores I gets my next page."
I didn't need to be asked twice. With my hubby just a few feet away, I'm afraid my plans to take the time
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