A Man has Needs

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just... I can't believe you're all grown up. Movie nights aren't going to be the same when you head off to college." I said, completely saving face.

"Dad, it's going to be okay, I promise. You know I'll visit you and mom all the time." she said, her heart genuinely going out to me.

"I know, I do, I'm sorry." I said, my erection subsiding.

I excused myself after that, heading to the upstairs bathroom where I jerked off picturing it all over again, cumming hard into a wad of toilet tissue before throwing it in the toilet. It's where my cum belonged, any other chance of my genetic legacy getting flushed away, while black sperm conquered thousands of white wombs every day. I looked at myself in the mirror for a while after that, I knew, and saw in my own eyes, that I was defeated somehow. I had mentally blacked every single woman in my life, my own wife and kids included, and it wasn't enough. I would love to say that that particular night was some sort of epiphany, but nothing changed. Within a week, I was picturing myself being savagely beaten, left to die on my bedroom floor, while a gang of angry black men fucked my wife and girls until they forgot all about me, their only desire to serve the black master race. It's a strange spiral. It's been years since then, and my life has taken a strange detour since those days.

For starters, after both the girls were out of the house, the tension between my wife and I grew. My inability to perform raised a whole bevy of questions I just couldn't answer and I became withdrawn, spending more and more time jerking off alone to my own oblivion. So, I suppose it wasn't a surprise when my wife eventually left me. I wasn't even mad at her to be honest, I knew what a piece of shit I'd become. In some ways, I was practically thrilled, especially after I found out she had started seeing a new guy, and that he was black. I couldn't tell you how many nights I spent jerking off, thinking of him pumping between her legs, cumming inside her, filling her mouth with his seed... it was almost too much. I seriously wished I could have called her and asked to sit in the corner and watch. I still love my wife, well, my ex... but the thought of her doing things she would never do with me, having orgasm after orgasm on black cock, it's like a dream come true. But wait, there's more.

Remember my female coworker? Well, it turns out, her kid, who I'd never seen or met before... he was black. She'd been pumped and dumped, and before she left the company, I saw her new boyfriend at the holiday party, and you'd better believe he was a healthy brown. Another white woman converted, I loved it. As time went on, I was seeing it more and more rampantly, Conversion Kings giving me a front row seat to dozens of female celebrities, and other semi famous personalities declaring their love of black dick. Jennifer Aniston, fucking Rachel Green herself, showing up online being absolutely fucked into oblivion by my personal hero, Onyx Masters. It was like some wave was sweeping the nation, and it was unstoppable. I felt like an investor who got in on the ground floor of a new craze and was raking in the profits.

Wendy was first of the girls, once again. That guy from the photo? It turns out he made his way through her little friend group after all, three of them getting pregnant in the same year, including my daughter. We talked about it over lunch one day, and she said she didn't regret it, and that she was planning on keeping it, despite the fact that he had already moved on to other girls. I told her I was proud of her, and that I would never judge her decision. I really was proud of her though, watching as her belly swelled up, my first grand child erasing generations of white heritage. As for Alice, it turns out she couldn't really keep her promise either, moving much further away, and from what I can tell from her social media, to a much blacker locale. Every picture she posts has a seemingly different black guy, or group of black guys, all close, hands on her body. She posted a sonogram one day, and I practically came in my pants knowing she had almost certainly been bred by blacks.

I wish I could tell you it happened to every woman in my life, but that would be unrealistic. But I could see it happening more and more out there every day, and I loved it. I would see an unhappy white man coming out of the liquor store, and think about how his wife, or his daughters, or both, were taken from him by a superior black man. How they couldn't find a date, how they probably jerked off alone, heartbroken and depressed. In that respect, I had them beat. I had embraced the change that was coming, hell, I fucking loved it. There are times I sign in to Conversion Kings, a site which I gladly pay for these days, hoping that I'll see someone I know personally on here, and not just some celebrity or politician. I even recently paid to send some mystery gifts, in the form of massive black dildos, to some of my buddy's wives who I picked out from their social media accounts. I don't know what effect it will have, but I have my hopes.

That's the story of my obsession, my addiction, my life's purpose. Someplace I never thought I would be, someone I never thought I would be, but here I am, and I'm happy as hell.