Marcia Goes Black

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clinton09
clinton09
1,681 Followers

Well, every year on the year of that 1st arranged date, Marcia made me schedule a similar date for her. I had to pay for it all (if I expected to keep her; just the pride in calling her my wife was worth it to a sissy like me, she being "out of my league" and all). So, I had to find some big cocked black dude, arrange with Marcia to meet on her peak fertility night, and then set up the night club thing and the observer in the motel room thing. Every time I had to rub the new huge black cock against the slavering lips of her cunt (at peak fertility), thereafter inserting that mammoth baseball bat sized pleasure tool into the love holster of my insatiable "wife". Always the frantic lovemaking, her telling him that he was rubbing her clit till she was going to scream, was scraping the walls of her cunt, tapping against her cervix and shoved up against her uterus. She'd always screamed out her orgasm anyway (funny, no one ever complained in the motel...were they enjoying it too?) She no longer went thru the charade of the busted rubber, instead allowing them (to their relief, shock, and excitement) to fuck her bareback. When they pulled out, there was always a huge milky-clear glob of sperm-laden semen. I always pointed out how sexy the sight was, and Marcia always ordered her black stud (one night only) to use his mighty tool to push that precious seed of his back inside her. Just thinking about that manly seed being pressed inward, towards her womb, by the stud under orders from Marcia; well that WAS sexy.

Marcia was so insatiable and so incredibly fertile, and the black studs so virile, multiple births were the norm with them. She had a total of six trysts in our "marriage"; counting the five of the 1st date, it was five, two, one, three, one and then four to cap this whole experience. A total of sixteen(16!) black babies from my gorgeous white wife's fertile vagina, which could just as easily been pumping out my brood. But, talk about "blowing it"; the college town had been up till now lily-white, the black dudes I found lived in a neighboring town. Now, due to my fertile wife and my stupid idea, an entire school bus would be required to cart her black offspring to school. Talk about changing the world single-handedly. The final bitter irony from this Greek tragedy I could only blame myself for, in many states you could use the bi-racial baby as a legal defense against child support and a legal support for a favorable divorce. However, in our state, DNA tests were rejected and they adhered to the old law: "any offspring occurring during a marriage shall be presumed to be the product of that man and woman. One or both of those parties would be responsible for supporting said offspring."

After the 3rd year of my "new marital relationship", I received an estate settlement with the passing of my last living parent. Now normally, $600,000 would make you somewhat comfortable, but in this case, I had to expend all of it eventually on additions to the home, medical care, and other costs attendant with a brood of 16. It took all of my time caring for the huge family while my sexy wife spent the time dieting to get her figure back, or having sex with other big cocked black dudes, to get her figure back the hard way...At least she used protection then, keeping bareback riding limited to those anniversaries of the first fateful date that this foolish cuckold had set up.

Author's note:

Well, that tale was unpleasant enough, wasn't it? Racist hunky gets a little taste of justice. He sees entire region transformed by the incredible fertility and insatiable sex drive of his formerly faithful white wife, who was led by the hand into black breeding by her infant-size equipped lame-brained husband: i.e. me. My advice to you is to stop here, and now. Hope you enjoyed the show. The balance of this story, the 'ending' if you prefer, can only be anti-climactic.

Ah, but to be a true Greek tragedy, we need a real ending, and the 'deus ex machima', the trick ending that wraps things up, however likely or unlikely. So we soldier on, just a few more moments. Please fasten seatbelts.

Back to the play:

My insatiable wife had pretty much cut a swath thru the black male population; there were few if any black men of legal age who hadn't had the honor, the pleasure, the ecstasy of unleashing a boatload of potent African seed into the fertile depths of my gorgeous brunette wife. When one of them told his gang leader about it, 'the other Donald' as he now wanted to be called paid a visit.

Marcia greeted him warmly, as he WAS the father of her first five black children. When Donald learned that that 'racist cracker', i.e. me, was still around, perhaps even happy to be a cuckold amongst all of these sexy doings, he was furious. He grabbed Marcia, holding her tightly. He whispered into her ear (just in case; gang bangers feared the Feds and mikes/bugs/wires.) The other Donald asked if she minded if he settled some old scores with her pansy, tiny cocked hubby.

Marcia said, "I thought you'd never ask. As far as I'm concerned, you can make him cry for mama, fuck him up good, put him a foot, six feet, six hundred feet down."

Being resourceful, his gang took 24 hours to find a chump, a stoolie who was caught with a wire. His unfortunate and mysterious demise, it appeared by the evidence clumsily left everywhere, pointed to me. Why, there were even gang affiliated non-gang members who would 'put the finger' on me. CSI or no CSI, police never turn down a case wrapped in a nice pink ribbon. I was arrested, tried and convicted in record time.

So I was sent to the electric chair. For some reason, the endless appeal process was shortened for me, with rejection by every court from the fifth circuit to The Hague. The day came quickly, then, for my final just rewards. As I made the final 'dead man walking' routine, I really wished I had taken Last Rites or at least seen that stupid movie starring Susan Sarandon. And what was with that last meal anyway? I should have sent it back and gotten the chicken pot pie like the warden suggested. Well, at least the service was better than at Red Lobster.

I didn't appreciate the jailer who was putting on the electrodes, the 'comedian' who said, "Hey college boy, I guess you'll finally learn if power really does corrupt!" At least he politely apologized for having the phone off the hook. No wonder there was no call from the governor.

I thought, "Come on call, I mean, I did vote for you..."

At the appointed hour, that same jailer went to the switch; his sour puss was the last thing I would see. The last thing I would hear was his lilting, "Hey kids, it's Howdy Doody Time!" Zap.

In the town surrounding the state prison, motels fanned out in two directions. One of them was famous for having its power grid tied to the prison. So, in the most tasteless on-going event outside of Burning Man, people could stay in the motel and share the experience. Much worse, some truly sick couples would wait for the lights to dim for their climaxes. It would be a truly tasteless end to this play to hear that gang banger-in-chief 'the other Donald' had turned Marcia on to the details of this last page of my saga. Or, worse, that she had found her next big cocked black lover and snuggled up in one of those sleazy motel's expensive rooms overlooking the prison, just waiting for the juice to be applied. Why, the only thing that would cap that is if they timed their simultaneous orgasm to that zapping, with Marcia conceiving her last big brood, say four healthy black babies, more than enough to replace little me. But that couldn't have happened; too unlikely, too coincidental. Still, it WOULD have made for quite a tragedy...

clinton09
clinton09
1,681 Followers
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