Econ 101 of White Wife Breeding...

Editor's Note: this submission contains fictional characters using racial, ethnic, gender- or orientation-based slurs.

My 'historical fiction' (an oxymoron, using fiction to present historical facts) story takes place in Virginia, the tobacco growing center of the world, in 1801. I attempted to be as historically accurate as possible in reference to: persons, places, practices, dates, and decrees. Unfortunately, it's necessary to use the 'n' word when story telling of slave breeding in an era condoning the barbaric practice.

The first derogatory usage of the term nigger was in 1775, one year before the Declaration of Independence (DoI), which did absolutely, positively, nothing to emancipate the slaves. Quite to the contrary, the Colonial victory over the British extended the duration of slavery three generations by most estimates. These inconvenient truths aren't something high school American history books are likely to point out, glossing over slavery giving the subject 1/10th of the attention it deserves.

Thomas Jefferson's DoI sole stirring phrase, 'All men are created equal,' should have added the word 'white' before men since all colored people, both slave and indigenous, were excluded. They were either considered slave property or Indian vermin to be rid of. The description 'merciless Indian savages' is part of the DoI. Washington was an especially feared Indian killer earning the Iroquois nickname 'Town Destroyer'. Use of the world 'men' was correct in that it excluded all women.

The fact the United States of America was founded upon liberty for some and slavery and annihilation for others is indisputable. Past wrongs are being corrected, but oh, so slowly, with decades of two step forward and one step back legislation. The last major Civil Right legislation passed some fifty five years ago with the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights act, enabling black women the right to vote.

If you are offended reading the 'n' word, and 'boys', referring to black men, then please read something else. Also, if you find the story unsettling, discovering more than you'd like about slave breeding and our Founding Fathers active role in perpetuation of the holocaust called slavery, all I can say is that taking a 'red pill' isn't the easy way to go.

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Young Jed Harman had finished washing up, after working a twelve hour day tending his twenty acre crop of tobacco, when he heard horses approaching his one room cabin. Telling Amy, his bride of six months, to stay inside while he investigated, Jed stepped out on the front porch to greet the strangers with his rifle at the ready.

Jed couldn't help but gawk at the expensive beautifully crafted red-velvet upholstered surrey drawn by two magnificent horses as it drew near. In the back sat a finely attired middle aged white man, with two equally well dressed large black men sitting in front, who Jed naturally assumed were freemen since slaves only wore rags. What distinguished the two black men was that one had an unmarked face while the other had fresh cuts and bruises looking like he had been beaten.

"Good day my friend," the white man spoke. "My name is Peter Brown, call me Brown, one of my horses has thrown a shoe. Can you please assist us?"

Raised by a family of good samaritans Jed didn't hesitate a second, saying, "Happy to oblige. Move your team over to the barn and I'll be along shortly, after I talk with my wife."

Amy of course had been listening to the conversation through the door and watched the surrey pull up, so what Jed told her came as no surprise.

"I bet that surrey and team cost more than our entire farm!," Amy said, awe struck by Brown's wealth.

"Probably buy us out a couple of times over," Jed laughed.

"Did you see them black fellas?" Jed asked. "They looked like Nubian kings sitting on a throne."

"I've never seen black boys who weren't filthy, stinking, and sweating plowing behind a mule in my entire life." Amy exclaimed, proving the adage that clothes make the man, intently looking forward to meeting them even thought she was brought up as a racist.

Amy had never talked directly to a black man in her life, but they became a source of repressed erotic desire after watching a naked group of them climbing out of a swimming hole a couple of years ago. Having three older brothers she grew up in a household of dicks, but the cocks on the black boys hung due to the length and thickness while her brothers only stuck out straight for a couple of inches, like her husband Jed. Seeing those massive cocks instantly turned Amy into a size queen. The fact they were black, the ultimate taboo for a white woman, only increased her fantasy desire to be nigger fucked.

Every time Jed made love to her Amy's mind would flash back to the mental image of the group of black boys scampering out of the swimming hole with their large hanging black cocks flopping from side to side, laughing as they ran to the bushes to fetch their clothes. In her fantasy they surround her, force her to her knees, and make her go around the inside of the circle sucking each of their coal black African cocks. Once hard they bent her over an old log and took turns doggy fucked her, sending streams of black slave baby cum racing down both of her legs.

Not being able to unsee what she saw, Amy had her granddad carve and polish a twelve inch long, two inch thick, 'rolling pin' out of a piece of ebony wood so she could 'make cookies'. Tapered at both ends it was a perfect black cock dildo, and her most prized possession. She used from time to time giving herself orgasms her husband was incapable of producing, stuffing a rag in her mouth to muffle the screams of ecstasy.

"Why don't you make some lemonade and bring it out to the barn in a bit." Jed asked, happy to be entertaining such wealthy guests.

"Sure sweetheart, and I'll bring some biscuits and honey too," Amy said, feeling the same tingle in her loins as she did taking the 'rolling pin' out of the cupboard when Jed was in the field.

Brown unhitched the horse missing a shoe and led it into the barn while the two black men remained in the surrey. While Jeb prepared the hoof for re-shoeing they struck up a conversation.

"So how many acres of tobacco do you plant"?

"Twenty."

"Any field niggers helping you out? Twenty acres is a load of work even for someone as young as you... how old are you?"

"Answering both your questions, nope, and I'm twenty, the same age as Amy, my wife. We can't afford any slaves but I'm hopefully we have a bunch of kids to help me out. Without more hands doing what I'm doing now at forty would be hard, and at sixty impossible. I ain't afraid of hard work, mind you, but at some point in life you have to slow down."

"I know what you mean, there isn't any crop that's more labor intensive than uppowoc (Indian for tobacco). So you say you've been married six months and your wife still isn't with child?"

"It's not from lack of trying," Jeb laughed, there isn't a night that goes by that I don't spill my seed inside of her."

"Have you ever been sick as a child?" Brown asked.

"What kid hasn't?" Jeb laughed.

"I mean really sick. So sick you felt like you were going to die and your balls swelled up to the size of a melon."

"Yah, that happened to me when I was twelve, lucky it was winter my ma packed them in ice for a week."

"Well I'm sorry to say son, that your wife ain't ever going to be with child since you're sterile. Same thing, sad to say, happened to my brother."

"Merciful Lord, no," Jed called out, looking to the heavens watching his future float away before his very eyes.

"Don't despair Jed, I think I can help." Brown said, offering solace.

"Help! How in the world are you going to help me? What is it that you do anyway, and why are you in the company of those two black men?"

"My card, sir."

The card read: Peter Brown, Boxing Trainer, Owner, Promoter, and WWB.

"So I take it you train and promote the two nigger fighters you're with?"

"Indeed I do. I'm sure you can tell which one was in a fight last night." Brown laughed. "But you should see the other guy. Crixus, my fighter, won in thirty-four hard fought rounds and will be good as new in a couple of weeks after his cuts heal."

"Crixus? An unusual name."

"I name all my fighters after famous Roman gladiators, the other is named Famma."

"Named? I thought they were freemen."

"Heavens no, they are my slaves. Bought them three years ago when they were your age. I'll get another ten years out of each and if they 'do good' I'll then give them their freedom rather than sell them off. Our next fight is is ten day against a young upstart nigger named Tom Molineaux (slaves were often given the surname of their masters. This is one of the reasons why 'Washington' is the blackest name in America today), rumor has it he's co-trained by George Washington, himself."

"Speaking of George he's wearing a couple of Famma's teeth and one from Crixus. Every time one gets knocked out in a fight it's a dollar in my pocket. Some people believe old George has wooden dentures, but that's pure bullshit. his mouth is full of nothing but nigger teeth." Brown chuckled.

"All that is very interesting. So how can your boys 'do good' and win their freedom?"

"Well if they win more fights than they lose and they sire lots of mulatto (half black / half white) children. When Famma and Crixus aren't fighting they're fucking and breeding little nigger babies inside of white wives. Like the card says I'm a WWB, or White Wife Breeder."

"I didn't even know that niggers were allowed to breed with white wives. How long have you been a breeder?" Jed asked, noticing his dicklette stirring after asking the question.

"Over twenty years. I learned the trade from my daddy who was taught by his daddy, both of who were in charge of plantation breeding of lily white Irish slaves to coal black African slaves on Barbados, in the West Indies. Most breeding focused on produced strong back field niggers, with some yielding delicate, non-threading, house niggers. As you can tell by looking at my boys, they exclusively sire field niggers."

"I had no idea, there were white Irish slaves."

"Yep, Cromwell sent a whole bunch over more than a hundred years ago, and they've been breeding them ever since. Those white Irish cunts and tar black African cocks produce damn near perfectly brown mulattos, which sell for more since you only have to tell them once how to do something. By the way, what's the nationality of your wife?"

"Irish."

"Well that makes my job that much easier," Brown laughed, knowing that unless a white woman is completely receptive to black breeding, to the point of begging for it, the breeding most often doesn't take.

"How big are your boys?" Jed asked, having heard stories about the massive size of nigger cocks, but never having seen one.

"Crixus cock is a respectable eleven inches and Flamma sports one just over a foot, both close to two inches thick when hard. My black boys balls are so large that when they erupt it looks like two black Roman candles going off. It's a sight to behold with them shooting off rope after rope of pearly strand nigger baby making seed for a good half minute. One time I counted ten spurts coming out of Famma's cock, while he was jacking off in bed, with a couple of his early eruptions shooting three feet straight up in the air. There ain't an egg buried deep enough in a white woman's cunt they can't reach."

Jed realized Brown and his boys were the solution to his infertility, given the necessity of relying on slaves rather than sons to help run the farm, but wasn't sure he could get up the nerve to ask Amy to spread her legs for nigger cock.

"Jed, you're not the first sterile man in the world. I mentioned my brother, he's now forty and has ten mulatto slaves out of his wife who are helping him farm his two hundred acres. The oldest started breeding a couple of years ago producing 3/4 black nigger babies, when bred with a neighbors fresh off the boat all black stud. In his old age they'll breed the newest crop producing 7/8 black babies. Unless he buys more land, he'll sell off the surplus slaves."

Jed's head was starting to spin. His slaves out of Amy would produce more slaves, producing even more slaves. He'd then be buying out his neighbor's land and then his neighbor's neighbor land. It was exactly like compounding interest which Ben Franklin described as: 'money makes money, and the money that money makes, makes more money'. Only difference was instead of compounding money Jed would be compounding slaves... which, come to think of it, there wasn't any difference at all.

Slaves were money, and money bought slaves, so the two were the same. Certainly Jed was not the first to do the math, Thomas Jefferson had it all figured out long before, marveling at the 4% compounding interest Monticello earned each year on the sale of excess nigger babies. Jed now dreamt one day of not owing 40 acres, but maybe 200, or even 8,000 like George Washington's Mt. Vernon Farms owing over 600 slaves.

Sidebar

Fifth grade history thought us that both Washington and Jefferson indeed owned slaves, but detested the institution of slavery. I don't know about you but if I detest something I either try not to do it, or at least cut back. At no time during their lives did they own fewer slaves than the year before. Sort of like a 600 pound morbidly

obese individual hating ice cream manufactures, but never the less eating a half gallon of the stuff every day, 'detesting' every single bite.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_presidents_of_the_United_States_who_owned_slaves

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"I could be as rich as George Washington some day," Jed blurted out, dreaming he could be as wealthy as the wealthiest individual in all of the Colonies.

"Indeed you could. I bet you didn't know that George Washington volunteered to command the Revolutionary Army for no pay. People make a big deal about that, Brown continued, but all he was doing was protecting his slave property interest when England started leaning towards future emancipation with the Somerset Decision of 1772. If Somerset was bad, Dunmore's Proclamation of 1775 (the first Emancipation Proclamation issued in what was to become America) was downright terrifying, The damn British offered freedom to runaway slaves who took up arms against their masters. Be awful hard for George and Martha to be farming 8,000 acres with no niggers running around, or worse yet, having them black bastards shooting at ya. George obviously didn't cotton much to Dunmore calling him, 'that arch-traitor to the rights of humanity'. It goes without saying he meant, 'white' humanity."

"If that weren't enough, old George knew if he beat the British the Proclamation of 1763 would be ripped up and he'd make a killing on all the speculative land he bought up in the Ohio River valley, before he fired the first shots starting the Seven Years' War (lasted nine), as a British officer. Whole lot of good economic reasons, rather than phony high-falutin patriotic ones as to why George spent seven years leading the Revolutionary fight."

Knowing that Amy is in season, since she made him a pecan pie for dessert tonight, his favorite, Jed asked THE question that would change their lives.

"How much for the both of them to fuck my wife?"

"How's that shoe coming along?" Brown asked.

"All done sir. I checked the others making sure they were on good and tight."

"Can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Now normally I get ten dollars a piece for an unlimited amount of fucking for one night, so that would be twenty dollars total for both. They last fucked a white wife five days ago in Christianburg, home of both Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, so I'm sure their nigger sperm is nice and thick. If your wife is in season, and she ain't damaged down there, my boys knocking her up is as good of a bet as a fixed fight. Price is a real bargain when you consider slave babies are going for two hundred dollars on the open market these days."

"I don't doubt it's a bargain for someone who has twenty dollars, but I don't have more than a couple of bucks to my name," Jed said, exasperated at the financial roadblock. Any hope he had of being as rich as George Washington meant Amy would have to drop her first nigger baby by early next year.

"I like you Jed, you were kind enough to help me with my horse, let me repay you by giving the gift of my slaves black seed. Spending the night I'm sure by morning your wife will be with child. Next year we'll pass by again for another breeding, which will give you time to market your tobacco and set aside the stud fee."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Jed said with tears coming down his cheeks.

"All you have to do now is convince your wife. What's her name, again?"

"Amy."

"Well here she comes now. Cute little thing, I'm sure both my boys will have no trouble at all getting hard for her. I'll tell them to go extra slow till she starts lathering up, her being so tiny and all."

Jed nodded his head, but didn't think Amy would have any trouble accommodating the huge black cocks. For some strange reason, which Jed couldn't figure out, his petite wife who weighed just over a hundred pounds, had a very roomy (three finger or two inch wide) wispy haired cunt

Turning he saw Amy approaching with a big smile, noticing that she had fixed up her shoulder length auburn hair, put on her blue Sunday best dress, and splashed on some toilet water (eau de toilette). Going to all this trouble of course didn't mean she'd spread her legs black cock... but did suggest she might entertain the idea, he thought.

Setting down the tray, Jeb introduced Amy to Peter Brown.

"My word you're as beautiful as a field of Virginia Bluebells," Brown exclaimed, is that right boys?"

"She most certainly is, master." Famma said, getting off of the surrey, with Crixus following. "Miss Amy, I don't reckon I've ever seen more beautiful hair. Nigger women hair look and feel like some prickly old bramble bush. Your hair must have belonged to an angel." These were the very first words a black man ever spoke to her and they lit her pussy on fire.

"Would you like to touch it," Jed said, not letting the opportunity to offer up his wife pass him by.

"I'd love to, but only if Miss Amy doesn't mind none." Famma respectfully asked, towering a good ten inches over Amy standing next to her, weighing more than twice as much.

"Not at all, I want you to." Amy said, blushing due to the poetic complement. She was amazed at how well spoken he was and the respect he paid her. Growing up her momma taught her black men were all brutes, and only one step removed from a gorilla, cautioning her that she didn't want to be a grandmother to a chimpanzee. Now knowing this wasn't the case, she turned from a racist to a lover of black men the instant his fingers touched her hair.

The gentle black giant stroked the top of Amy's head and then moved his large black hand down behind her neck touching her flesh which made her whole body quiver as he did. The longed for first touch of a black man sent an electrical wave from the neck to her pussy which she felt spasm releasing a stream of honey juice that made a large wet spot on the front of her dress, which her husband immediately noticed.

"Amy are you alright? You just pissed yourself!"

"Nothing to be worried about, Jed, happens often enough when a white woman has a nigger laying hands on her for the first time. Best check though, to make sure she still ain't leaking," Brown said with a smile, knowing Amy being turned on would make the breeding as easy as rolling off a log.

"Check?" Amy asked, her face now as red as her hair.

"Nothing we haven't all seen before," Brown assured her, instructing Jed to remove her dress which he did.