BBD vs BBC

Dedicated to all the sweet women out there married to guys who cant fuck worth shit.

Chapter 1: BBD + BBC = a happy white wife

As she cruised down the highway in her $100 000, customized 2006 BMW M6, 35 year old Pam was in a very suppressed mood. She was having a heated discussion with Jessica, her best friend. Jess was in a very good mood. She was all jittery and bubbly. The two women were of the same age, and very similar in many ways. However, whereas Pam was a calm, laid back, mature person, Jessica was simply wild and adventurous. She was a lusty person who lived her life to the limit.

This, Pam thought, was the reason why Jessica was playing with fire and enjoying herself, without worrying about the great risk she was taking.

"Listen Jess," Pam began. "You cant tell me that you love your husband and your kids with all your heart, yet you are cheating on him. Imagine the heartbreak, and shame and scandal if this ever comes out. This black guy is a drug peddler and an ex con."

"Look Pam, if a good job and status were everything, I wouldn't be doing this, right?"

"But your husband gives you everything. Cars, jewels, clothes, your nice house..."

"Pam, I wont deny that those things mean a lot to me. But I have my needs too..."

"Sex isn't everything!" Pam snapped, getting angry. "You are so irresponsible. Think about your husband and your children."

"Pam, I am not just a mother and a wife. I am a woman. Its not enough for a husband to be a good provider, just like its not enough for a woman to bear children and cook well."

"Jess, are you aware of that this is the worst thing you can do to a white man, is cheat on him with a n****! Girl, don't let that huge black cock fuck your brains out."

"Pam, its not about the size. They are about the same length. But my lover makes me feel appreciated. He makes me feel like a woman, his woman. My husband cant. What he does is some kind of wishy washy... But it aint sex."

"That sounds so lame it needs crutches! What you are doing is called a high risk, low yield investment, in other words, a very stupid, dumb gamble."

"You want business terms, how about this, what isn't available locally must be sourced from elsewhere. After 10 years of bad, boring sex, I had to do something. Pam we were on the verge of divorce. However, since I started fucking my black lover, my husband comes home to a happy, relaxed wife. My kids have a sweet, well humored, loving mom. We are a happy family, thanks to my affair. Coz now my life is complete."

"Why is sex so important to you?"

"Because I am a fucking woman, dammit!!! Why was I given a body with a clit and a pussy. Why is there such a thing as a fucking orgasm? Why is sex enjoyable? Or are you saying the woman should be satisfied as long as the man has his fun?"

"No... But, but, but... Pam, you are just using both men. One for his money, the other for his big, black cock."

"Pam, I only have one life to live. My husband offers the Bigger, Better deal, he can look after me and my children, and offer us financial security. But I also need a man with a BBC...."

"Big, Black Cock..."

"More like, Bigger, Better Cock. The fact that he is black makes it more thrilling, I admit. And I love his dark, rippling muscles... But even if they were no black men on the planet, I would still cheat on my husband. Without his money and his status, my husband would never get a woman."

"I feel sorry for your husband. He is such a nice, respectable guy. And you're betraying him."

"Lemme tell you something Pam, looks are deceiving. My black lover might be an animal thug, but at least its in the open. My white husband is a sick beast, and not many people know it."

"What do you mean? He is such a gentleman?" Pam felt dread as she asked the question.

"That is what you think! But, enough said, anyway, we are there now. Lets just forget about my husband. Its so disgusting. Gosh! I am so excited to meet my lover!"

As Pam pulled up before the Motel, on the outskirts of town, Jessica was so excited she could hardly stay in her seat. As soon as the car was parked, she started sprucing up her makeup in the rearview mirror. Pam watched as Jessica applied glossy, cheery red lipstick to her pouting, heart shaped mouth. She was looking like such a flirt, a pretty, tall, curvaceous white woman, with silky, dark brunette hair, a pretty face, a curvy body, and thick, ripe breasts. Her exhilaration was infectious. Pam had never felt like this when she waited for her husband to come home.

Chapter 2: Tha Hood

Janet was a positive woman. She believed adamantly in the Lord and her faith was like a crutch, which she leaned on when times were tough. And times were tough, especially when her husband abandoned her with no farewell, leaving her with two children to look after, when he was knifed whilst trying to help out a mate who was involved in a stupid fight over a stupid whore. The killer was some stupid, repeat offender who received life without parole. That was no consolation at all for Janet. It was just another senseless death in the hood.

She worked two jobs to feed her children and pay rent for their tiny flat. Her sons, Josh and Jones were three years apart. The contrast in her two sons always amused her. Josh a happy, loud, zealous child, who bubbled with wild energy. He was strong and physically well developed, and he was loved by all. Everyone prophesized that he would be a successful athlete. Janet secretly dreamt of seeing her son on TV, like Michael Jordan.

Jones on the other hand, was physically frail and a book worm who preferred to read rather than go out and play. He was not a dweeb, but he kept to himself. For some reason he inspired respect in other kids. Usually, when the other boys started some shit, he would be watching from a distance, as they carried out his suggestions. He was very intelligent, and read anything he could get his hands on.

Janet's children had only one thing in common. They rejected her profound faith in the Lord at an early age. Jones told his mum that the Lord, Jesus and Santa Claus did not come to the Ghetto. Janet's arguments fell on deaf ears, and so did her warnings that a mind that did not fear and respect the Lord was the devils workshop.

The lives of Janet's two sons developed in very different directions. Whilst Jones excelled at school and was always top of the class, Josh was a trouble maker from day one. He hung out with the big boys, breaking all the rules. Then he dropped out and started dealing drugs. Josh graduated from juvenile detention to the State penitentiary, whilst his younger brother Jones went from high school to college.

Janet's two sons returned home at the same time, one from jail and the other from college. Jones graduated in business with flying colors at the age of 22. When he returned home, Janet's boy was a man. He had a well developed, six feet tall, lean, athletic body, like a boxer's. His dark, clean shaven, smooth face was pleasant and good natured.

Josh was the stereotype of a black ghetto thug. He was twenty five years old, a big, tall, hulking, muscular, dark black guy, with thick, African features. Her wore a bandana tied around his bald, clean shaven head, a wife beater and long shorts. His arms, which had never picked up a book, were 36 inches, and covered with tattoos. Jones found his brother to be rather ugly and scary, but many women found him attractive and he had a reputation as an awesome woodsman. Josh had an appetite for white women. Jones accused him of fucking white women because he had an inferiority complex.

"Fuck that shit n****, I fuck white chicks coz they hos. And coz aint nothing makes every damn cracker mad than to see a white bitch with a no good n****. Every time a n**** fucks a white bitch, every white man feels excruciating pain. That's why I like to fuck they kids, they sis, they wife and they mamas. Hail to the big, black cock."

"But how can you fuck a white chick, they ugly bro?" Jones asked. "They got flat asses."

"So what, they still white. And if I catch them, I'm a fuck them and send them home wearing my cumm. That's the fuckin revolution right there!"

At University, Jones had taken black History classes. From that moment, he stopped liking those people. And he realized that Sam wasn't his Uncle. However, he diligently sent out application letters. Three quarters received no reply, and the rest came back as regrets.

To Jones' great surprise, he received a positive reply from Denison Tech, a multi national, multi-billion dollar Telecommunications Corporation. He announced this to his excited mom, who was so happy and proud that she celebrated as if he had gotten the job already. She put together all her savings, drove her son to a clothing store and bought him an elegant suit, white shirt and pair of leather suit, announcing proudly to the cashier that her son was gonna make it out of the hood. Jones had seldom seen his mom this happy. He fought back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

Chapter 3: The Interview

Jones found the office building in the CBD. Heart thudding like a drum, young Jones walked in and felt like a tiny ant as he stood in the foyer of the huge, awe inspiring headquarters of Denison Technologies. He could not believe that the company was owned by a family. Just one floor of the 30 storey building cost more than the budget of 3 third world countries. His heart sank. He knew that these people would never give a black guy like him a job.

A young woman came to pick him up from the foyer. She introduced herself as Sheila. She was almost his height. She was very slim, and had a long face, slim face, framed by shoulder length, blonde-reddish hair. Her skin was pale and freckled. She had big eyes, which were emphasized by her long, thin face so that they looked like a doe's. They were misty, blue-grayish eyes, and had a sharp, intelligent shine to them. They were framed by long, lush, eye lashes. She had a perky, cute nose and a wide, pouting mouth. She was neither pretty nor ugly, but her big eyes shone with intelligence. She wore an immaculate white shirt that was draped over her medium sized boobs, and tube skirt that went down to mid calf. It made her hips, ass and thighs seem real slim. There was something classy and elegant about her. But she also seemed to be making an effort not to stand out. As they rode the lift, Jones caught her looking at him. She smiled, blushing and quickly looked away.

Sheila led him into the office of the personal Manager, Jeff Macmillan, a white guy in his early forties. The interview was kind of weird. Jeff checked that the face before him was the same as the one on the application. Then he checked Jones' Degree with his driver's license.

Sheila brought them both coffee. Again, she smiled at Jones and he found himself responding automatically. She blushed and averted her eyes quickly.

Jeff then asked him a few irrelevant questions, like could he play baseball. Jones told him he was alright, both as a batsman and pitcher. They talked about this and that. Jones thought the guy was trying to make him relax before they got to the serious stuff. The interview lasted less than ten minutes, and no relevant questions were posed at all.

Jones heart sank as Jeff stood up, terminating the interview. He knew the white guy had only pretended to interview him. He wasn't even gonna give him a fair chance to fight. The letter of regret would come soon afterwards, he knew. Jones felt sick to his stomach and his knees went weak. He had a foul taste in his mouth. Damn that Uncle!

However, to his great surprise, Jeff told him that the job was his. He shook Jones hand, told him "Welcome aboard son. You're our new assistant head of the foreign sales department. Seeing as you're fresh from college though, your salary will of course be a lil modest to start with. But you'll get an annual increment. And 10 K after Tax should be enough to start with, right?"

"What! I have the job!!!" Jones gasped, incredulously.

"Of course. Or do I look like Dave Chappell? That guy is funny right?" Jeff said, slapping his shoulder. "Listen, Jones, you seem like a good kid. You know what its all about, right? One hand washes the other. We'll start you off on a 3 month probation, we like the way you play ball, we'll keep ya."

As an afterthought, the white man said to him, "Listen son, eh, keep your hands off members of stuff. Its eh, against company policy."

As he pressed the buzzer and called Sheila, Jones digested the hidden message, "Keep your black hands off the white women and we will take good care of you, son."

It took him a bit longer to digest the fact that he had just gone for his first interview and landed a coveted job. However, the whole weird procedure had befuddled his brains. He mumbled a thanks and followed Sheila.

Sheila walked in front of him, leading him to his new and first office. He observed the tall, slim, woman's back view. He could see her small ass cheeks clenching and unclenching in her long, tight skirt on every step.

Jones had never dated a white woman. First of all, he didn't like The Man, and he didn't like Sam, coz the pale guy wasn't his uncle. Besides, he had heard that white women were lazy, couldn't and wouldn't cook, clean up or raise children. They just sat on their flat asses black and watched Oprah. On top of that, they could not be trusted. If you dated them, they would fuck your friends, your cousins even your brothers behind your back, in fact, make that the whole hood. And white chicks would dump you if someone with a BBD came along. They only just cared for money. They were looking for a guy who would buy them the latest car and a pair of silicon breast implants.

Sheila led him into a spacious office, which smelt like it had been recently renovated. Suddenly, he was aware that Sheila was looking at him and saying something.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, I am your secretary, I am just a couple of doors down the corridor. If you need anything, just lemme know," Sheila said in a sweet, soft voice, her sparkling, big eyes gazing dreamily into his.

For a second, he found himself drowning in them. He pulled himself together. Hell no. He didn't even wanna find a white woman slightly attractive. He was an educated brother, and he had to stay true. These white chicks tried to steal all the sports stars and the professional black men. The words of a song from Ice Cube came into his mind... "...Just like Andy and Amos, The devil sent you to try and tame us, But you cant tame me, with a b**** named Emi."

"Thanks Emi," he said on purpose, chuckling to his private joke.

"My name is Sheila," she pouted slightly, pulling her shoulders together. Jones suddenly notice her tits. They were medium sized, but on her slim frame, they looked humungous. They made his hands itch.

She probably had some rich white boy, who had paid for them. He noticed that she had no rings on her finger. She was probably fucking some married, rich guy on the down low then, he said to himself. "Sneaky white kid b****!" He chuckled, knowing that he was being unfair and mean. But it was always funny to think or talk shit about whitey, the same way they stereotyped and caricatured blacks.

"What's funny?" she asked, feeling self conscious.

"Nothing, Sheila," he said, "I am just feeling happy about all this. I just cant fucking believe it."

"Congratulations," Sheila said and acting impulsively, did something she had wanted to do since she first saw the handsome black man. She leaned in and quickly kissed his cheek.

Her lips were soft and warm. Her rich perfume filled his nostrils. Then she turned on her heel. Jones felt dizzy for a second. That was his first bodily contact with a white woman. He again gazed at her tiny ass, working in the skirt. It excited his cock. But if she offered it to him, he would definitely pass. That ass was like a flat screen, he needed a big, fat color TV, so that he could really rat-tat-tat.

"Grow some ass, hips and thighs, get a black grandma and we can talk, white broad!" he chuckled to himself. He was really enjoying thinking shit about her.

She closed the door behind her and he looked around the spacious, well decorated room with a view. He couldn't believe that he really had the job and the title, and the salary. Coming fresh out of college, with no experience at all, Jones felt suspicious right there. He knew that something funny was going on. He wondered exactly how he would have to wash their hands. But, on the other hand, a job was a job. And he had it, in one of the top league firms around town. He dropped himself into the leather, executive armchair, put his feet up on the desk, and felt like the HNIC, or simply put, Head N**** In Charge.

Chapter 4: The black stooge

Jones settled in to his job at Denison Technologies quite easily. It wasn't hard. He had nothing to do. He asked Jeff when he would be getting some work and Jeff said he should just relax and settle in first. He also said to talk to Sheila.

"Well, how shall I put it, alright, they need a black face in management. But nobody desires or will seek your opinion on anything."

"SO, you mean I am just a fucking stooge! I didn't fucking go to college so I could play a fucking stooge! I am good at my shit, Sheila," Jones exploded.

"Look at it from a practical point of view, you are fresh out of college, you have a healthy salary with perks. And working here will give you good references. Just be, practical. Get your money for nothing."

"And your chicks for free," he finished off sarcastically.

"Ah ah. They wont like that. They are good old fashioned boys. If you happen to be dating a white girl, don't bring her to the functions, it might create some bad blood. The other guy tried it and they terminated his contract." Sheila shrugged. "I know its shit, and I feel so ashamed as a white person. But hey, they are good, old boys. They hate to see a black face, win the race."

Jones thought about for a second. It was bitter. But he had never expected anything else from that funny Uncle. Well, Lisa was right, he supposed.

Jones was given stupid work to do. He was pissed, but decided to be practical. He drove his fat, company issue, metallic grey 2006 Acura RL, and waited for his first pay check.

Chapter 5: The perfect white couple

As he drove home in his executive Mercedes Benz, Jeff thought about Jones for a second. He was surprised that the new, young black man didn't come to him and offer some kind of protest. That only showed what a smart kid he was. The boy knew his place. Jeff had no time for a complaining black boy. He employed just a few, to make things look balanced. They got their pay, but they didn't have shit to say.

Anyway, he knew that blacks were lazy bastards, and killers and drug dealers. It was always on TV. The only good blacks were the ones that tended to his garden, chopped down unwanted trees and spray painted his cars. Plus he liked to see them in neat uniforms, either as valets, waiters, or playing for his favorite NBA, NFL and MLB teams. Other than that, he didn't need those fellas. They were up to no good.

Jeff arrived home at his Villa and parked his vehicle in their three car garage. As he entered, the aroma of delicious food hit his nostrils. Jeff was a tall man. He had once been athletic, but his financial success and lack of exercise were taking their toll. He was jowly, balding prematurely and had a basketball belly. He was not someone to be noticed in a crowd. His skin was a solarium brown. He dumped his laptop bag and his jacket on a couch and proceeded to the dining room. Jeff liked punctuality and efficiency. His wife always served supper at 8.

His daughter, Nile, aged seven, rushed into his arms and hugged him happily. He carried her to the dining table. His nine year old son Andrew was starting to become a man, and no longer jumped into daddy's arms. Jeff greeted him warmly and ruffled his hair. As Pam came in from the kitchen carrying a dish, he kissed his wife on the lips lovingly. They were a nice happy family.