Poony's Interracial Stories
Stories from people like you about their interracial sex life!

Cuckold Wives Feasting on their Interracial Desires!

Heidi needed a summer job to help pay the bills around the house, her fiancee Tommy couldn't handle it all himself. Mr. Joseph hired Heidi with open arms but Heidi may have been "hired" for more than she bargained for...
~ Poony

Summer Help: Part 1

It all started my last year of college. I was dating the boy of my dreams Tommy Richards. Tommy was all-state quarterback for the football team and we were very close to becoming engaged.

I had been on the cheerleading squad but had to quit because frankly, Tommy and I needed money to continue living together off campus.

One day while checking the posts in the Student Union building, I noticed one looking for an accounting student to intern at a local CPA’s office.

"Fantastic!" I thought, this may be exactly the break Tommy and I needed. Now I could get a part time job and we could afford the rent, which we were now actually a month behind on.

When I showed up the following day at the office I was surprised to find that the owner was a rather short, paunchy black man...maybe 50 years old. This wouldn’t have been a problem at all except for the way he looked at me. As soon as he came out of his office to greet me, he nearly stopped in his tracks and looked me over. I found it kind of gross.

Regardless of his impropriety, I was determined to get the job—for the sake of my staying with Tommy.

Mr. Joseph took me into his office and pulled his chair out from behind his desk, positioning it right in front of me. He began talking in this phony Barry White type of voice. I thought: amazing...this old black man thinks he is going to seduce me!

Mr. Joseph—he insisted I call him "Ward"—continued to prattle on about the office and how sure he was that I’d be an excellent "fit." It was crude the way he accented the word "fit" when he said it, but I pretended not to pick up on the lewd message he was delivering.

As our conversation drew on though, I had to admit, I was impressed with his persistence and confident manner. Most boys on campus seemed to get tongue-tied around me. This was definitely not the case with this slight, portly black man. He seemed convinced he could seduce me...and I was both taken slightly back and impressed by it.

As Ward continued to speak to me, as corny as it was, I did start to get slightly taken in by the Barry White routine. He was good at it. I found myself liking the sound of it...somehow it made me feel...ummm...sexy, I guess.

The next thing I knew, Wards black fingers were stroking my leg. I had worn a very short skirt to the interview; I’ll admit it was to impress my interviewer. I now realized that unfortunately, it was having even more than its desired effect. I wished I had worn a pants suit. But now my own lack of business judgment was working against me. I had come to the interview showing myself off, and now this old, middle aged, very black man wanted me to show more—a lot more!

I was about to ask him to please stop what he was doing, but I was honestly afraid it would ruin my chance of getting this job, which Tommy and I needed badly. Several times just as I was about to say something he’d remove his hand, then as the conversation would go on for a while, the fingers would start gliding along my thigh again.

I’m ashamed to say, this old man was arousing me a little. I had never been with a man so self-assured and so aggressive, but subtly so.

Finally, he concluded and offered me the job. A smile played across his thick lips. I’m sure he was feeling very self-satisfied that he was able to play with my legs during the interview without my objecting. He probably read it as my consent to his advances. I didn’t mean it that way at all.

When I left I was angry I hadn’t told him to stop, and wondered why I didn’t. I convinced myself that it was the money—I needed the money—and, after all, it was for Tommy.

I got home and undressed. I was stunned to find my panty hose was damp in the crotch. To be honest, it was very damp. I stared at it for long moments. I held it up and sniffed it. It was my woman’s scent. But...it couldn’t be...that strange, little black man couldn’t...couldn’t ever..have made me...wet?

I got into the shower and as I lathered myself, I felt my body responding tremendously to my touch. My nipples were very hard. I squeezed my breasts and it felt so good. I squeezed them again, much harder and cruder this time. I was becoming very hot and very horny. It had been a long time since I’d felt like this. I loved Tommy, but the sex wasn’t really a part of it. He wasn’t very accomplished. I began playing with my clit. I whispered to myself, "Oh, Tommy."

I strained in my mind to visualize the man I loved as I leaned along the tiled wall of the shower. My fingers were working furiously at the stiffening bud that was about to provide the strongest release I’d had in months. Then it came, almost with a flash of light. I shivered and moaned. I sank to the flooring of the tub as I continued shivering and quaking with the powerful orgasm. Finally as it subsided my lips whispered something...and it echoed back at me within the confines of the shower.

It was a name...


I sat in stunned silence, my thighs splayed apart as wide as the tub walls would allow. I couldn’t imagine what was happening to me.

That night I lay in bed listening to Tommy snoring. But I was distracted wondering what I’d wear tomorrow. Should I wear the extra short black skirt, along with my white hose and white shoes with the spiked 4-inch heels?

Suddenly I caught myself.

Why was I thinking about this? What did it matter what I wore? I felt very confused.

The next day—after going back and forth several times—even after putting on my pants suit, I returned again to the short skirt. I took off the pants suit, and almost as if in a strange trance, found myself dressing in the white hose, extra short black mini, and 4-inch heels.

I looked in the mirror...I looked like a sex kitten. Why was I doing this, I wondered?

When I showed up at work Ward was obviously pleased. As short as the dress was that I wore to the interview, the skirt I wore for my first day under his charge was even shorter.

My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt I should know better. What was this over-confident man going to think? Of course, he would assume I was dressing for him. He would think I wore this extra short skirt so he could have a better view of me.

"Was I...?" I wondered.

"Heidi, join me for lunch today," Mr. Joseph asked me, in a way that was more a command than request.

"Uhhh...well, ok, Mr.Joseph," I responded, not knowing how I could decline without creating a scene.

Then he leaned over and said softly, "What do you like to eat, sweetheart?"

He knew that statement could be read two ways...and he knew that I knew it too. I played dumb to try to ignore the second possible implication:

"I like just about anything," I replied, and then cursed myself for having answered so stupidly. My reply could be taken two ways, also. Ward smiled as if he had read my statement in the double entendre he was trying to use with me.

"We’ll see," he smiled, lewdly. "We’ll see..."

Ward drove me to a very expensive restaurant in his Lexus. He was obviously well off. Surprisingly for this day and age, the sight of an older, black man with a very young, blonde girl still turned heads.

When we exited the car, Ward was the kind of gentleman that has gone somewhat out of style. He opened the door for me and took my hand as I exited. Unfortunately, as we entered the restaurant I felt his hand on the small of my back. I was surprised to find him so bold as to be insinuating his arm behind me, as if I were his date or something.

It annoyed me, but I wasn’t sure how I could stop it without creating an uncomfortable situation with my new boss.

We were escorted to a private table in the back and had a wonderful meal. Ward insisted I have wine before, during, and after the meal. I had drunk nearly 3 of the small glasses. I am not much of a drinker, so I was left feeling a little buzzed.

On the way back to the office, Ward could tell I was slightly tipsy. As he spoke to me he began to touch my knee, soon his hand was placed firmly on it and began to stray upward along my thigh.

I wanted to say, enough. But I was feeling weak and tired from the glasses of wine. Soon, Ward’s hand was confidently stroking my thigh as we drove. The damn skirt I wore was sliding easily upward to my hips. Finally, I placed my hand meekly around Ward’s wrist, as a way of implying I wanted him to stop. But he ignored my signal. His hand continued to stroke my thigh even more boldly, even as my hand enfolded his wrist. Indeed, it now would have appeared to an onlooker as if I were guiding his hand under my skirt and between my thighs.

We drove a few miles and I found myself looking down, stunned to see this old, paunchy black man’s black hand situated between my legs. My thighs were now spread widely apart. To any onlooker I would have looked like a young, blonde whore with her hand guiding an older black man’s up under her skirt and between her wide open, inviting thighs.

Ward was manipulating my clitty through the thin nylons I had on.

"MMmmmm..." I heard him moan lewdly as he felt my wetness spreading over the strained nylons.

"You like that, don’t you, Heidi?"

I could only moan in response. I was very horny and felt very weak under the vile ministrations of this confident black man.

He pulled the car into our work site’s parking lot. He parked in a secluded, reserved spot for his Lexus. Then I felt him grab the back of my neck, and gently, but firmly, begin to push my head down toward his crotch.

I heard him fumble with his zipper, then heard it unzip loudly. As he pushed my head down I could only offer feeble resistance. I felt so weak under the demands of this surprisingly confident, powerful man.

In the back of my mind, I thought of the previous day when I thought his come-on so ridiculous. Now here I was, my pussy hot and wet, with my head being forced down toward his unsheathed cock.

I opened my eyes to find his very fat, very black dick positioned inches from my mouth. He continued to confidently force my head down until my lips were firmly planted on the warm, wet head of the thick, black cudgel.

I felt like crying, but remembered that I was doing it for Tommy. It’s for Tommy I insisted to myself. Then my lips relented, and I took the warm, thick dick into my mouth.

"That’s ‘a’ girl," I heard Ward Joseph snort.

"Lunch ain’t over yet, girl," he chuckled to me.

I am ashamed to admit the rest. I just wanted to get it over. I began to bob my head up and down on his thick and rampant organ. I could taste the thick salty seed that was leaking from his dick in the form of precum.

It sounds terrible, but I liked the taste. He tasted wonderful. I was becoming more aroused as I swirled my tongue around his meaty African weapon. He grunted and it made me feel proud that I was giving this older man—whom I once thought ridiculous—all the pleasure I was capable of.

"Faster, bitch," my black captor demanded. I responded. I began to work his dick, furiously bobbing up and down on it. Occasionally I’d pull my head off of him and lick the around the nozzle of his thick, black, beautiful cock. I even kissed it a few times...then I would devour it again, bobbing and working away at it like a woman possessed. I could hear my own snorting and grunting, as I worked the thick black hunk of meat that Ward offered me from the fly of his pants.

"Gonna get somethin’ to wash down all that meat now, girl," he groaned.

Then it started. The man I considered a paunchy, old man now unleashed a fount of thick seed into my mouth, the likes of which I’d never experienced before or since. He came...and came...and came...until I had trouble swallowing anymore.

"Don’t you get any on those pants, bitch" he warned, as I coughed and swallowed, choked and swallowed more.

Finally, I felt I was getting full from the excessive loads of cum that my new employer was discharging into my mouth. I felt him grab the back of my hair and lift me off his drained member.

A string of cum hung from my chin. I stared at him and he smiled over at me.

"Well, that was ok for the first day at a new job. But don’t worry Heidi, once you been doin’ this for a few weeks, you’ll get better."

After fellating my new black boss, Ward Joseph, in the parking lot, I returned to work the remainder of the afternoon.

A large cum stain adorned the breast of my blouse, which the two other co-workers gawked at, having figured out what must have taken place during lunch between the boss and the new intern.

All afternoon, I worked in stunned silence, like a somnambulist, while my new boss casually would ask for my assistance in his office.

"Please take these files and organize them by alpha and date, Heidi," Mr. Joseph would casually instruct, and then on occasion as I turned to leave with the files, I would get a slight pat to my ass.

A few times his assistant, Billy, saw the pat to my ass and smiled admiringly at Ward, who would smirk back with smug satisfaction; he wanted everyone to know that the young blonde was his—completely!

By the end of the day, I was exhausted and defeated. Ward’s hands were now on my hips, then patting my ass. There was no stopping this dominant, arrogant black employer from having his way with me.

Occasionally I would try to stop his hands, but he would persist and I could see stopping the regular groping of my body was futile. By the end of the day, I no longer tried. At one point, Ward came up behind me at the file cabinet, reached around, and started groping my breasts. He was a little rough in doing it, but, again, I was too weak to stop him now.

Billy came around the corner and witnessed it.

"Excuse me!" he said loudly, with a huge grin beaming across his ebony face. Then he wheeled about and left us alone.

"Please, Mr. Joseph, this has really got to stop. I just want to do my job, ok?" I pleaded to this man who was injecting himself so fully into my life.

"This is your job, Heidi," he said, firmly, "So get used to it...understand?"

What could I say?


Then he began rubbing his fat, meaty dick into the crevice of my ass cheeks, and kissed me deeply on the neck.

I moaned. He was making me hot again. I tried to think of Tommy, but then Ward turned me toward him and leaned his face into mine. Our lips met and I realized this brazen black man was kissing me...it was still only my first day at work.

I pushed at him, but he was too strong and held me close. He was actually a few inches shorter than me, so it must have looked ridiculous, this paunchy little black man pulling this tall, young blonde to him...and making her submit.

Rather than wind up wrestling with him, I finally submitted to his lips. I even began kissing him back. My thought was to give him what he wanted and then to get out of there and never return. Forget the money. Everything had gone out of control; I was becoming this horrid man’s fuck toy.

As we kissed, my black employer began trying to insinuate his tongue into my mouth. I resisted, but his damn persistence made him continue to work my lips open. As my lips gave way, just slightly, to his ministrations, his thick tongue slid deeply into my mouth. Both our mouths were now open wide with his tongue playing crudely with mine.

Ward Joseph’s hand now caressed my breast, his thumb rubbing my hardening nipple. I grabbed at his wrist, but this time, I confess, I did little to pull his hand away. My grabbing of his wrist was only to show token resistance to his taking of me. Psychologically, I needed to feel I was at least trying to resist, even as my tongue now played with his willingly.

Minutes must have drawn on when I found my arms wrapped about his neck. I was aggressively kissing this strangely sexual and assertive little man.

Mr. Joseph’s black hands now cupped the cheeks of my ass and massaged them through my skirt. Soon he’d pulled the skimpy skirt up and mauled my ass cheeks roughly, under the skirt.

I was so wet now...I was afraid what I might do with my demanding black superior, right there in a corner of the office—when suddenly, Mr. Joseph stopped, pulled away, and returned to his office.

I stood weak kneed and stunned at the abrupt end of his usage of me.

After attending to myself in the ladies room, I finished the day of work. I knew at the end of the day I should just leave and never come back. But, instead, I found myself entering Ward Joseph’s office to let him know I was leaving for the day.

It’s hard to explain what I was thinking about...I guess I wasn’t thinking. My body was just reacting...reacting to the power of this slight, but bullish, black man who had taken his blonde quarry—in just one day.

In my mind I thought briefly of Tommy, and hoped, if he ever found out, he’d forgive me.

"I’ll be leaving now, Mr. Joseph," I said, meekly to the little black man bent over work papers.

"That’s fine, Heidi," he said, without looking up. "But tomorrow I’d like you to leave the panty hose at home. I’m thinking a plaid skirt with knee high sox would look nice on you," then he looked up at me, holding me in a grim glare, over the rims of his reading glasses. "Clear?"

After a long pause, in which I struggled not to tell him to go fuck himself, I heard my response, as if coming from someone else in the room:

"Yes, sir."

After shopping for the skirt and sox, I arrived home to find Tommy slouched on the sofa watching a baseball game. He only briefly noticed the large stain on my blouse and asked about it. I told him I spilled some coffee and that was the last he said about it. After all, Tommy would never have thought in a million years that it was really a stain of my new black employer’s cum, which had drooled there from my chin after having sucked him off in the parking lot following lunch, would he?

Tommy also asked about all the new clothes I was buying; I told him I needed more clothes for work—period. He never mentioned it again. He was just glad I was paying the rent.

My mind boggled over the clothes bill, though. I was now starting to spend about a third of the money I was making on clothes to please and impress my new boss. It felt almost as if I were his whore and that dressing for him was now the main part of the job.

It was demeaning in a way...and yet it strangely excited me. I never dreamed I would react this way to being treated purely as a sex object—but I did. I felt sexier and more alive than I ever had before.

I got into the shower and turned on the burst of hot soothing water. Sitting along the rim of the tub, I thought back about all the black boys who had asked me out since junior high school. I had always turned them down. I never saw it as racist, but I just wouldn’t consider dating a black guy.

Now I wondered what, perhaps, I had missed. After all, if a pudgy, little, middle-aged man like Ward Joseph could do to me what he had, seemingly easily, done, then what might a healthy, ‘young buck’ do?

My mind went back and forth, as I wondered if maybe it was in fact Ward’s age that gave him the added confidence I found so difficult to resist. Perhaps it was older black men that were so difficult to say no to—whom were so over-sexed.

I remembered an African-American history teacher I had in one of my college classes, "The Black Experience." Being brought up in a very conservative, very white family, I found him—and his views—arrogant and abrasive. Now as I remembered him, and how he strode confidently across the classroom as he lectured, I found my fingers diddling away at my clit. I could here his voice, barking out about injustice and the underlying pettiness and weakness of the white race, and, slowly, my thighs fell open wider, my fingers diddled faster. I imagined him glancing under my skirt as he lectured me on my prejudices and advantages, and my thighs spread ever wider.

Suddenly, the bathroom door burst open and in walked Tommy naked.

"Whoa! What goes on here? Is my girl horny or what?" he marveled.

Tommy got into the shower, his skin seeming paler than I’d remembered—almost sickly. His little pecker bounced out in front of him. It paled (no pun intended) in comparison to Ward’s thick, manly cudgel.

Tommy held me to him, our naked bodies against each other and kissed me.

I felt nothing.

I kissed back, but did not offer my tongue. Tommy’s tongue finally insisted. I opened my mouth to him, and as his tongue played in my mouth I realized I had never rinsed out since kissing Ward and, for that matter, since fellating him.

Tommy was now running his tongue over the remains of my black employer’s saliva and cum.

I started giggling, it seemed all so insane to me, both how much my life had changed in the last two days, and the situation of my fiancé now tonguing from my mouth the remains of a middle-aged, black man’s seed.

"What’s so funny?" Tommy asked, annoyed.

"Nothing. Let’s get out..." I responded. He could tell I wasn’t into his attempt at sex. He pouted the rest of the night, drinking beer and watching baseball.

I spent the evening doing my nails and trying on my new outfit, trying to figure out how sexy I could look for Mr. Ward Joseph...the new man in my life.

The next day I showed up to work in my extra short, plaid skirt; red, knee-high sox; and shear, white blouse. Under the blouse I wore a red brassiere that could be seen through the blouse and was cut very low, exposing my prominent cleavage.

In my hair, I wore a red ribbon. I was dressed as the perfect Catholic school girl for Mr. Ward Joseph, my black boss...the man who was, in effect, paying my rent. I had learned all too well that he was not a man to be fooled with and I most definitely wanted him to be pleased with me.

When I entered his office, a big smile spread across Mr. Joseph’s face.

"Damn, girl! You sure take direction well, don’t you?" he said with his grin still beaming. I think he half expected I would never show up at work again. Now here I was, and dressed provocatively—just the way he’d instructed.

"Come to Daddy!" he said, arms wide, implying I come sit on his lap.

I did. Immediately Ward’s hands stroked my bare thighs, and then slid up under my skirt and between my thighs.

There was no longer any pretense or foreplay involved. My thighs spread easily for him and I, in fact, longed to feel his fingers stroking the swollen lips of my vagina.

"You like to dress for Daddy, don’t you, Heidi?" he whispered, lewdly into my ear.

"Yes..." I whispered back.

"Yes what, baby?"


Just then Billy walked into Ward’s office and stopped short in his tracks at the sight of us. I quickly shut my thighs at the shock of the interruption...I still had some modesty. Unfortunately, my thighs clamped Mr. Joseph’s hand between them.

"Guess you caught me with my fingers in the cookie jar, Billy!" Ward laughed aloud, secretly proud to be caught in the situation in which we were found.

"Sorry, boss," Billy smiled, and continued to stand there staring at his boss’ black hand, which appeared devoured between my thighs.

I turned my head away in embarrassment, my thighs still shut on Ward Joseph’s probing hand.

"Well, Billy, how can I help you, boy?" Ward asked the young assistant casually, his hand still engulfed between my thighs.

From there the two men started to carry on a brief conversation about some office issue. As they were carrying on there casual conversation, Ward began to stroke his hand between my thighs, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He did it almost unconsciously, absent-mindedly, as they spoke.

Billy’s eyes were constantly darting down to observe his boss’ hand working slowly away between the young, blonde intern’s thighs.

It felt so good. And Billy had already witnessed so much.... Slowly, as they spoke, I let my thighs spread to facilitate Ward’s stroking between them. First, just a little, then they spread more...and more. After several minutes, I sat there on my black boss’ lap, head buried in his shoulder, thighs spread wide apart, as this domineering black man stroked my wet pussy...all right before another young—and now, very horny—black employee.

After several minutes, I could hear that Billy was sort of making things up now to prolong his stay in Ward’s office, watching his boss feel up the young blonde intern. The conversation had longer pauses and became ever more stilted, as Billy watched on, hungrily.

I could feel Ward begin to insinuate his fingers under the crotch of my damp panties. His fingers began to enter me. I moaned.

I heard Billy whisper, "Holy shit...!!!" as he watched Ward begin to finger me right in front of his young assistant.

"You know Billy, some times a man has to take opportunity where he sees it," Ward Joseph said softly, as he worked two more fingers into my wet, slick pussy lips.

"I always take opportunities other men stupidly leave available," Ward continued. The squishing of his fingers in my fast lubricating cunt could now be heard clearly, as he spoke to his young charge. Billy was silent.

"For instance, a young man lets his beautiful fiancé go to the marketplace to pay his way...well, I say that young man is white trash. She deserves better—and she gonna get it! Meaning ‘me’, of course," he chuckled. This dominant man was now working his three thick fingers in and out of me more rapidly. I could smell myself thickly in the room...and I was rapidly approaching orgasm.

"I say, that young, gorgeous thing needs a Daddy...a black Daddy. One who’ll take care of her needs...all of ‘em. And I aim to do that with Heidi, here. She’s gonna have ALL her needs taken care of by this black Daddy...ain’t you sweetheart," he whispered to me.

I nodded my assent.

Then my orgasm came over me in waves...warm, warm waves. I moaned and whined and hugged Ward’s neck tightly. When it was over and I finally opened my eyes, I could see Billy still sitting there, eyes bugging out and slack jawed at what his boss had just done.

"Alright, baby doll. All done for now," Ward said, as he patted my ass for me to get up and back to work.

As I stood up, Ward’s hand slid up the back of my thigh, under my skirt, and he pinched my ass.

"Heidi, you are truly Grade A meat, baby doll," he said smoothly.

Then he turned me toward him, with my back to Billy, and lifted my skirt. Showing my bared ass to Billy (I had only worn a thong).

"What you think, Billy?" Ward inquired of the shocked employee.

Billy was stunned and silent, his pants tented out with an enormous hard-on.

"Well, grab some of that, boy," Ward said, reaching around and squeezing an ass cheek.

Hesitantly, Billy reached out and stroked the smoothness of the fleshy cheeks in front of him. Then he began to pinch them.

"Damn!!!" Billy muttered. Then he leaned over placing his lips to my ass. He kissed my ass and then I felt his tongue trail a wet warm streak across my buttocks. It tickled.

Billy’s hand ran along my thigh and he began to bite my ass cheeks softly.

"Girl, I could eat you right now, right here," Billy grunted, huskily.

"All right, boy, that’s enough for now. I gotta get some work out of this girl today. So far, she oughta’ be payin’ us," Ward Joseph chuckled, as he pulled down my now thoroughly wrinkled skirt.

Mr. Joseph patted my ass again, signaling my dismissal. I stumbled out of his office on shaky legs.

All I knew was that I was hot...and that I wanted more.

The rest of the day was spent trying to fend off Billy’s advances while encouraging Ward’s.

Billy now wanted more of what his boss had offered him a taste of—figuratively and literally.

Throughout the day Billy began to grope at me. Once or twice he smacked my ass, and once at the filing cabinet he groped my breasts, just as he’d seen his boss do the day before.

I consistently told him no, but after what he’d witnessed that morning, nothing was dissuading him that he could also enjoy this Caucasian girl’s charms at his own pleasure.

"Damn girl, you got some titties," he whispered, as he pawed my breasts at the filing cabinet.

"Billy!!! Please...you know I’m here for Mr. Joseph," I’d try reprimanding him. Without blatantly saying it, I wanted him to realize I was Ward’s—not his.

As I left at the end of the day, my blouse had a button torn, my skirt was a wrinkled mess and my thong was stretched and stained with my own secretions. I was ashamed and humiliated. I’ve become a whore, I thought. These arrogant, over-sexed black men have made me become the one thing I’d always looked down on—a whore!

Mr. Joseph and Billy had spent the day feeling me, slapping my ass, and groping away at will. I couldn’t let that go on and maintain any self-respect. What would my friends or family think if they knew or ever witnessed how I’d behaved in that office...for those black men?

I was determined to not return again.

When I got home Tommy was there. As usual, he was watching TV and drinking beer.

"Come here and gimme’ a kiss," he demanded as I walked in the door.

I just walked by him. I didn’t really feel like being with him. And I didn’t want him to smell the sex all over me from my soaked panties.

I found myself in the shower again, incredibly horny.

"What have these black men done to me," I wondered. My body was in a state of constant arousal. I worked my clit under the cascading fount of water...and images came to me again.

I saw myself as Scarlett O’Hara on the plantation after all the white men had gone. Could she not have ever wondered, as she watched the laboring slaves, their muscles rippling, slaked with sweat under the hot sun, whether they might not have been better lovers than Rhett or Ashley?

I thought of myself as Scarlett, inviting the house slave to help move a piece of furniture upstairs in my bedchambers. Then after arriving in the bedroom, reclining casually on the big bed and asking..."John, have you ever thought of me in any way other than your master’s daughter?"

He stares at me in stunned silence.

"Well I’ve thought of you in other ways...ever since I was just a little girl."

More stunned silence.

"Please John, come here to the bed."

The large black man approaches hesitantly, confused, but with a rising lust for what might await him.

As he stands before me, sitting on the bed I lean forward and begin to unbutton his fly.

"Miss Scarlett, you sho’ you want dis’?"

"John, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life," I answer with an earnestness that convinces him that I am now his property, not he mine.

I pull the large black dick from his pants and look up into his eyes deeply, as I shuck the meaty weapon. Then as the flower of all that is Southern and Confederate, I take the black, sweaty dick into my mouth and begin the age-old labor, bobbing and sucking, to bring forth the rich black seed with which only John can bless me.

After all, Tara will need a new generation of strong, young—dark—men to work it.

Suddenly—I came in the shower!!!


I had never in my young life experienced the quantity and quality of orgasms as I had since meeting Ward Joseph. My black employer had brought my young white body to life as no white boy had ever been capable of doing.

I realized I would be returning to Mr. Ward Joseph’s office the next day, after all. It was my white, middle-class life to which I would not be returning...ever.

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