27 comments/ 78755 views/ 15 favorites BBD vs BBC By: UsualPornFreak 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. BBD vs BBC Chrissie had attended several cookery courses and had become quite a wonderful chef. The whole family were like gourmets as they fed themselves on her delicious, well prepared food. Jeff felt good as he looked at his nice, happy family. He felt a warmth around his heart, from all the love he felt for them. He was proud, to be a father who could provide for his wife and kids. He gazed at his wife as she fussed over Nile, who always ate rather too slowly. Despite her 35 years of age, Pam looked hot. She was a tall, busty, curvaceous brunette. Jeff thought she had put on a bit too much weight and might be due for another visit to her beautician. The money was no problem. As a department head, it was important to have a pretty wife that looked good on his elbow. As he ate, he felt so glad that he had managed to squash Pam's attempted revolt, 2 years earlier, and made her realize how important their family was. He smiled to himself, as he remembered how his decisive actions had brought peace back into his paradise. As he chased some tasty morsels down with a glass of fine wine, Jeff felt real proud. He had sure brought it far. He had not inherited anything, except sharp brains. Chapter 6: How the Dork got the hottest girl on campus. Pam and Jeff met in college, through a mutual friend. Jeff was twenty six, already doing his Doctor's Degree in Telecommunications Engineering, and Pam was 19, studying Business. Jeff fell in love with Pam immediately. She was tall, slim and pretty, with long blonde hair and blue eyes and every man wanted her. That was good enough for Jeff. Jeff made advances on her. However, though Pam liked Jeff, she wasn't interested in dating him. He was rather dorky and reserved. Pam was more into wild, exciting guys. She wanted to have fun. Jeff was confident that once he had a successful career, he would get her. He knew that for the average white chick, all that mattered was the BBD. After he completing his doctorate, he landed a very well paid job and his lifestyle improved tremendously. His purse, his clothes and his vehicle moved into a much higher league and suddenly, that ol' dork was attractive to women. By then, Pam had partied enough. She was beginning to have serious thoughts about her future. She was looking for a man who could offer her a life with financial security. Jeff offered her the BBD. Added to that, he worshipped the ground on which she walked and was submissive to her. And so Jeff came to possess this beautiful, blonde woman and put her on his elbow for the world to see. It was so romantic, a match made in heaven. They married and moved into a beautiful, spacious house with an aqua blue, sparkling pool, beautiful gardens and luscious green lawns and a three car garage. Jeff bamboozled her into stopping working, coz he was jealous of her career. He wanted her to be home so she would become dependant on him. They had two kids. Jeff was a workaholic. He put in long hours and sucked up to his boss big time. He wanted to rise higher and higher up the corporate ladder. Pam tried to console herself with buying fancy things. She got her lips and her breast done, and she bought herself the finest bling-bling, and the hottest car. She had the bathrooms and interior designing changed yearly. She renewed her wardrobe constantly, and spent money on a lot of stuff that made the white woman feel special. Indeed, she liked her life as a rich housewife. She made friends with the wives of other professionals, making each other feel special and comparing what they had purchased recently, how much their rings were worth and who would be flying where on holiday and other shit I am not going to bore you with. Jeff and Pam were a shining example of the perfect, loving couple. He was a respected, successful professional. A high achiever, with a beautiful wife and two happy, sweet, healthy children. Chapter 7: How the Dork got the upper hand. For a while, Pam was satisfied with her life of luxury. However, when both their children were in school and Pam was thirty five, Jeff, noticed that she started sulking. And her mood kept getting worse. She wanted them to take marriage counseling but he refused. One day she shocked him when she suggested a trial separation. Jeff became alarmed. His family life was the foundation on which everything else was hinged. A life without Pam and the kids, with visits over the week end was out of the question. And anyway, he didn't want to stand before everyone as someone with a failed marriage behind him. He agreed to see a marriage counselor. Pam then said she was very frustrated with their sex life. Jeff tried to defend himself, saying he had to work a lot for the family. However, Pam added insult to injury, by saying that she had never been satisfied with their sex life, right from the start. She had always thought she would get used to it, but she just couldn't bear it anymore. She needed to be fucked good. Jeff stormed out of the office angrily. Pam begged him to stay, saying there was something else she wanted to discuss, but he just went off. Mad as hell, Jeff went on a drinking binge. He felt so embarrassed and humiliated, as if she had openly castrated him. Their sex life had never been explosive. However, he thought sex once a week was perfectly normal. And with his eight inches, he thought he was well hung. Jeff returned home well after midnight and woke his sleeping wife up roughly. He was livid. And he was determined to show her once and for all who was boss. "Pam, what the hell were you trying to do? I mean, gott-damn!!!" "I am sorry too darling," Pam replied softly, afraid of the red faced, irate husband who was glaring angrily at her. Jeff had never hit her, but she had never seen him this mad. "So what's the fucking problem? I don't fuck you enough? My dick aint large enough." "You don't spend enough time with me. I don't feel desired or appreciated, as a woman!" "I bought you this damned house, all the fancy shit you wear, the fucking 100 000 dollar car. What the hell do you mean you don't feel loved. And as far as I am concerned, I fuck you well enough! Unless your saying you're a sex crazed slut! Is that it? Are you a gott damn slut and a whore!" Pam fought to control her temper. She felt so exasperated. "What I am saying is, I want it to be more intensive..." "Are you one of them BDSM sluts! Is that what you are saying?" "What the hell Jeff? If anyone here is into BDSM, we both know who that is, don't we?" "What the hell..." "I found some receipts in your pockets, several times..." "I can explain..." he stuttered, going pale. "Would you spend more time with me if I put on leather boots and let you lick them? Talk to me Jeff, I am your wife!" "Alright, listen to me now Pam, you fucking bitch!" Jeff was mad now. The white man was so pissed that his secret was out. "Receipts don't prove jack shit! Anytime you want, you can leave. But my fucking kids stay here. And you leave without a cent, without the car and the clothes!" "You cant be serious! I will take you to court, I will keep the kids and you will have to pay a hell lot of money." "Ha ha ha! I will quit my fucking job and in case you haven't noticed, all this shit is registered in such a way that you cant touch it, you dumb whore. Listen Pam, I fucking own you. You think you still that hot, lil Ms Queen of the Prom you once were. Hell no! Shit has changed! And if you make me mad I can hire someone to bump you off. Or I'll do it my gott damn self!!!" Pam felt scared! His eyes had a crazy shine to them, like a serial killer. He could have been Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Charlie Manson and any other murderous one of those people. "Jeff, would you rather be whipped and humiliated instead of making love to your wife?" "Listen bitch! One more stupid word out of you and your out on the street, do you fucking hear me? I said do you hear me," Jeff grabbed Pam by the throat and shook her, his face looking like an animal. Pam nodded. She realized that she was fucked. She was entirely under his control. She couldn't go back to work and start at zero, at the age of 35. "I am sorry darling," she whimpered. "Please forgive me." Jeff felt exhilarated, seeing his wife grovel. This was the moment he had been waiting, since he had first seen her. He had wanted to make this pretty woman his fuck slave. Now, finally, the wealth he had acquired, and the power he had over her, were giving him what he lacked as a man. Without money, he was nothing but a fawning, worshipful dork. But with money, he was someone, a very powerful someone. "Alright Pam. You are going to apologize to me now like a proper wife should," he said firmly, an evil, cold glint in his eyes. The drunken white hubby ripped his clothes off. His cock was the hardest she had ever seen it. The feeling of absolute power was like a potent aphrodisiac. His eyes were blazing with insanity. He climbed up onto the bed and lay on his back. He put his hands behind his back, and sneered at his wife. "Suck my dick right now Pam! Or else!!!" he growled, and she shivered with fear. For a few seconds, Pam was dumbfounded and nauseated. She suddenly realized what a disgusting bastard this so called high achiever was. She was close to tears. But Pam had pride and guts and she was a practical person. She decided that since he offered her the BBD, she would have to please him. If he wanted a slut, she would give him one. He had no idea just what a slut she had been back in college, but he would now find out. She suddenly felt a wild arousal come over her. A reckless, frenzied look possessed her face. She scurried down to her husband's thick, turgid, pink cock and double fisted it. She started wanking it. She engulfed him in her mouth. Jeff was so horny that he was immediately thrusting his hot rocket into her mouth, heaving and gasping for breath, feeling an exhilarating, wild heat that he had never experienced with his wife before. In fact, the white guy had only ever felt this when his dominatrix was booting and whipping his ass. He grabbed her head, wrapping his hand around a handful of hair, he started to pump her head up and down on his cock. Jeff looked down at his wife's face and did not recognize this wild, frenzied beast that was devouring his cock with such voracity. Within seconds, he was feeling a his orgasm rush at him. She deep throated him and down greedily, groaning like a beast. And then his balls exploded to shreds and he pumped all his pent up cumm into his wife's mouth. Pam realized with pleasure that he was no match for her. He could never take her coz she would consume him. He had power over her, but she had power over his cock. He just wasn't man enough. Even after his cock was dry, she chased after every single drop, licking his balls wet and clean with her hot tongue. By the time she was finished, Jeff was hard again. His wife hastily shed all her night clothes, and mounted him. Then she smeared her cumm covered lips onto his, and she was kissing him voraciously, raping his mouth, making him taste his own cumm. And Jeff was so excited. He was heaving and panting, trying to pump as much cock as he could, into this frenzied beast that his wife had turned into. Within 5 minutes, Jeff was cumming again, spurting cumm into her. Pam seemed to groan loud in dismay. She dismounted from him and knelt before him, cumm dripping down the insides of her thighs. She had a wicked, naughty smile on her face, as she reached into the gooey mess and scooped it up. She brought her fingers to her lips with deliberate slowness, and started licking them, like a disgusting slut. Jeff was so turned on. He was overwhelmed with an incensing, dirty, filthy passion. "Oh baby, I love you..." he moaned. His dick jumped up. Pam dove at his cock and deep throated him. He felt a compulsion to fuck his bitch of a wife, drill her hard and make her scream. But as she slobbered and slurped away at his cock, Jeff soon found himself cumming hard in her mouth, wrecked by hard orgasms. He couldn't even last more than 5 minutes, that guy. The drunken white hubby rolled over on his side and fell asleep, snoring. Pam lay next to him contemplating. This dork right there had fucked her over big time. She belonged to him now. He would use the kids and all his financial power against her. She was sure this mad man she had only just discovered, behind that nice, gentlemanly veneer would even put a hit on her. She started wondering just what other types of perverted sicknesses her husband carried secretly in him, Mr. handsome high achiever. From then on, Pam danced to his tune. She was rather relieved that he preferred to live out his sick BDSM stuff with a real professional, who knew how to whip and kick without leaving scars. Chapter 8 At first Jones sulked and fumed at Denison Technologies. However, after his first salary, he started using his time in the office usefully, looking for jobs elsewhere, and searching for investment opportunities for his salary, which was generous for someone who had just finished studying. Jones found himself an apartment in town, not far from work. He found a gym to work out. He saved his money and started investing it around. He had lots of time on his hands. He made a couple of black friends who were also working in the professional fields. He tried to get his mom a place in a better place but she refused to leave the neighborhood she had grown up in, coz all her friends were there. She agreed to move into a bigger flat down the street though and he furnished it for her. His dope dealing brother of course moved in with their mom and she let him have the bigger bedroom. Jones fumed but kept his mouth shut. He did not want stress. After a while they started giving him work to do at Denison Technologies. It was stuff way below his qualifications but he was glad to have something to do. On several occasions, he traveled overseas with company delegations. His duty was to just look black and shut the fuck up. On the weekends, he played baseball for the company team. He was an average pitcher and an o.k. batsman, but that was better than most, so he was quite popular. Once in a while, he even visited a couple of mates at their homes. On the whole however, Jones spent most of his time in the Hood, with his mom or his homies. When the weather was fine, there were always hot barbeques, and there was a ghetto party somewhere almost every week end. He found it funny that he had spent most of his life trying to get out of the hood, and now he was spending his free time there. Jones kept his distance to Sheila. They hardly talked, and had no personal conversation. After a while, she stopped looking at him with besotted eyes and he assumed she had gotten over him or had a new boyfriend. One afternoon, Jones was working on his lap top when Sheila walked in, wearing another tube skirt and immaculate white shirt and high heels, which seemed to be her trademark. She closed the door and walked in with a bottle of sparkling wine, two glasses and sandwiches. Her hair looked different, and it fit her very well. "Hi there. I hope I am not disturbing you. If you are busy, I will come back later," she laughed dryly. He joined in as she took a seat. "What's the wine for?" "Its my birthday today. I just turned 28," she said, handing him the bottle. "Well, congratulations. But I thought you were 21 or something," he said, genuinely surprised. "Thanks. That's flattering to hear." "Well, then, lets drink some wine, its not as if anyone will miss us at our desks, right?" He poured the wine and they toasted and drank. Then they started chatting about their situation. "So, why were you assigned to me? I mean, you have nothing to do here, just like me." "Oh, I crossed the line," Sheila replied, shrugging. "What line?" "I was dating a black guy, and I invited him to one of the departmental functions, and I sort of fell out of favor with everyone. Jeff offered me a generous retirement package, but I turned it down." "Its that bad, huh?" he shook his head. "Uh huh!" she said. "But I intend to sit my contract out. They can pay me for nothing, I don't care." "Man, crackers!!!!" he said before he could stop himself. Sheila's eye flashed. He asked quickly, "So, what's your boyfriend's name?" "Wallace. But we're not dating anymore. He got a good job overseas and well, we tried to keep it alive, but he is dating someone else now." "And you?" "I had another boyfriend in between, but it didn't work out." "Was Wallace your first black boyfriend?" "No. I have always dated black guys. I find black men more attractive." "Why?" he asked with a slight frown. "I don't know. Some girls like big, muscular blonde guys. Some like tall, thin guys, and others prefer chubby guys, and I like black guys. Not like, I find every black guy attractive. But the guys that I do find attractive are black. And that doesn't go down well with the people here. In fact, many white men hate me for it." "So, what kind of black guys do you find attractive?" "I don't know. Intelligent, smooth shaven, neat, polite and athletic. Like you," she giggled, blushing sweetly. "Thanks," he couldn't help smiling. He refilled their glasses. "And how about you, are you dating someone?" "No. My last girlfriend is still back in college, and its too far away. There have been a couple of people in between, but nothing serious." "Have you ever dated a white girl?" "No. I haven't known any personally. But even if I did, I wouldn't," he said firmly, and watched her face for a reaction. He had never said this to a white person, and he wanted to see how she would take it. She blushed and caught herself quickly. "Why not? Do you find us unattractive?" "I guess." he said nonchalantly. "I like women with a thick, round ass." She seemed hurt, then she looked him in the face, challenging him. "There are also white women with thick, round asses." "I also have political reasons." "Explain please," she said calmly. He told her. He said with the past, and the continued segregation, the stereotyping and negative portrayal of black people in the media, the marginalization of blacks in education and employment and even the situation he was experiencing, he could not date a white woman. He had too much resentment towards white people. "I find it such a pity that all you people walk around with so much hatred and mistrust of one another. I thought you were more intelligent than that." "Excuse me Ms. But I am the one that has been wronged here." "Oh, everyone has good arguments for their side, but it boils down to the same thing. And its not very progressive. I feel so sorry for you. Poor you!" "Fuck you!" he growled. "Only if you ask politely," she replied, and then she chuckled. "Sorry." "Me too. Your hairstyle looks nice." "Thanks for noticing," she blushed. "Listen, we are playing a baseball match against Cooper's on Saturday, in 2 weeks. Why don't you come along if you are not doing anything, then you can cheer me play. And we can hang around and talk a bit." "Are you inviting my skinny, white ass on a date?" she asked, smiling cheekily. "Yeah. But its not a date." "You will still have to entertain me though. That will be my birthday present." They finished the bottle, chatting about this and that. As she gathered the things, he walked around the table to her and stood before her. "Happy birthday," he kissed her cheek. "Wait," she put the things down and turned to face him. "Do it properly," she slid into his arms. He put them around her. She was so slim. But her body was firm and hot. Her breasts felt like hot pillows against his chest. Her perfume intoxicated him. They looked into each other's eyes. Her pale skin seemed almost unreal to him. Yet her vibrant body was real as life. He kissed both her cheeks. BBD vs BBC "I still think deep down inside, you are actually a nice man, Mr. racist," she kissed him on the lips; a lingering, loud smacker of a kiss. "I hope that wont kill you." She left his arms and picked up the things. He walked her to the door and opened it for her. She winked at him and left. As Jones sat back in his chair, he realized that his cock was hard. It was those hot, soft breasts. Or was it the woman. She was cool. And she was sweet. And well... She had three points against her though. First of all, she was a white girl, and he had made himself a pledge not to date them. Secondly, she was thin. He did not like super slim girls, whether black or Asian or Latino. The ass had to be big. And thirdly, her confession that she preferred black guys irritated him. She did not fit into the picture of white people he had. Guys like Jeff were much easier to deal with. They fit into his picture of crackers. He knew how to deal with those. Chapter 9: The Club of the Sicko Hubbies One Saturday afternoon, a couple of months later, Pam took the kids to a get together at one of her rich lady friends of hers. The women lounged at the pool, sipping wine and watching the kids play at the shallow end. Her companions ranged from early twenties to early forties in age. As usual, the women bragged off to each other about what their husbands had bought them, and where they would be flying to on vacation. Pam was doing her part at first, but she suddenly found herself thinking that not one of them looked like their natural selves. They had all had so much cosmetic surgery that one would have to dig deep, to find their original selves. Then she started wondering if her companions were as happy as they all claimed, or if they were all living a lie like her. Someone produced blunts and they started smoking. Pam was soon high and tipsy. Dinner was served by maids. The kids ate and went to play inside. Pam suddenly felt depressed. She started crying. Her companions asked her what was wrong as they hugged and fussed over her. Pam broke her vow to never tell them of anything bad that might happen at home. The drunk, stoned white wife and mom told them what had transpired between Jeff and her. There was shocked silence. Then she told them about his BDSM fetish. Judy suddenly blurted out that her husband had a fetish for panties. He liked to wear her panties. And he liked to sniff used ones. He would even order them on the internet and he had a collection of more than 400 strange women's panties and worn socks at home. She also complained that he forced her to watch a stringent diet and undertake a grueling sports regime, although he himself was a balding, fat toad with a basketball belly. Michele, another lady present, suddenly said that her husband liked to watch her have sex with other men. And that he had a keen appetite for the cream pie, as in, he liked to see other men fuck her, whilst he wanked, and then he would drink their cumm out of her pussy. He was now insisting that she get pregnant by one of her lovers, whom he hand picked on the internet, and he was also planning on a gang bang. Michelle had strong suspicions that he was actually gay. As their talk went on, Pam discovered that her friends of the ten women present, only three had normal husbands. One named Chris had a husband who liked her to fuck him in the ass with a dildo, and recently, he had been insisting that she share him with another man. Another had a husband who liked to drink piss. Yet another's husband who was addicted to porn. He would rather surf the internet and look at photos, jerking off, than making love to his wife. Still another had a fetish for interracial sex. He wanted to see his wife taken by a big, black cock, and was trying to talk her into it. Then there was one who had fantasized of having sex with his mother and his sister. He actually made her wore dresses from the sixties and called her "Momma." That was the only way that he could an erection. Another lady had a husband who beat her up. Pam felt like vomiting. She felt so trapped and lost. She realized that they were all paying a high price for the BBD. It seemed like all these respectable, handsome, successful, so called leading men of society were in reality sick. The situation reminded her of a film by Michael Moore, what was the title again, yeah, "Stupid White Men!" The three women fell into collective depression. Pam was glad that her husband was asleep when she got home by cab. As she got into bed besides him, she shuddered, seeing the welts on his back. Ever since his secret had come out of the bag, he was openly visiting his dominatrix. Pam turned her back to the sicko and went to sleep. Chapter 10: The sluts When his apartment was ready and furnished, he threw a housewarming party. He had supper with his bro, mom and friends from the hood. He made supper for his brother and mom. After his mom drove off, the party started. The furniture was moved out of the living room, and the tiled floor was turned into a dance floor. He had invited his new neighbors and a few dropped by. Josh brought along a DJ form their hood and many of his friends. The party was hot and people were dancing, smoking weed and drinking all over. The new neighbors and the hood crowd ignored each other. He was the only common denominator. Jones wondered if the rest of his life would always be like this. If he would always move between the two new worlds. The party was hood all the way, with blunts, forties and much dancing and twurking. It was like a hood party. By midnight the first fist fight broke out. A couple of bottles and glasses got broken. A while later, Jones caught a couple fucking in his bed. At first he was pissed, but he just shrugged his shoulders. You could take the boys out of the hood, but you couldn't take the hood out of them. He realized the only thing pissing him off was that it was his shit, his premises. So, he said fuck it, and started enjoying himself. He was hood as well. Jones hung out with an ex girl of his, a brown sugar babe named Kim. They smoked blunts and danced and kissed around. Her long, wavy, black hair was framing her pretty, oval face like a mane. She was in a tiny top and a short, tight skirt that cupped her thick round ass. She was also wearing ankle high boots. He disappeared with her into the bedroom and hit skins. Jones left Kim sleeping and walked around the party, checking out if things were alright.. The party was dead. The DJ had stopped selecting and had just a bump n grind disc into the player. He was on a couch in a dark corner, getting his dick sucked by some chick. A couple of guys and girls were necking and smoking blunts on the couch. Jones discovered one of the new neighbors, a white guy named Mark. He was in his mid twenties. He was passed out, sitting on the floor, with back to the wall, head thrown back, mouth gaping as he snored loudly. Jones remembered him coming over with his girlfriend, a Nina or something, some young, leggy blonde. He wondered if she had gone and just left her drunk, stoned boyfriend there. Well, served him right. He walked to the spare bedroom. The loud sounds of fucking filled his ears even before the door was fully open. Jones stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. There was his elder brother, Josh, naked as the day he was born, and he was lying on top of some white chick, fucking the shit out of her. His awesome back muscles were rippling, his ass cheeks clenching as he drove his dick like pile driver into some tiny white chick. She had her long, pale legs wrapped around his hips and was shouting frenziedly for him to fuck her harder. As she tossed her head in delirium, Jones saw her face. It was Nina, his neighbor's live in girlfriend. For a second he was pissed at Josh. Trust him to come around and start shit with his neighbors. But then the bitch was loving it. He remembered some lyrics from Ice Cube, in his song dissing white women. "Yeah, he tried to kick base, But the bitch, probably threw it in his face." "Shit!!!" he was disgusted with white women. Trust her to fuck some n**** she didn't know with her man passed out on the floor. He went back to Kim in his bedroom and put in work on a fine sister. She was so happy to have him back she blew him and chewed him. Chapter 11: Fun Day On the Saturday afternoon, Josh suddenly dropped by Jones' flat and said he wanted to come along. At first Jones wasn't too keen on the idea. He didn't one of the racists from work making a stupid joke that would incite his brother to club him. And he didn't want Josh hitting on the guys' wives. He had noticed that white women seemed to like his brother, though he could not understand why. But then again, all the women seemed to like Josh. The game took place in a park. Afterwards, there was a nice grill going on, with an acoustic guitar band playing and singing. At first Jones was quite nervous that Josh would make a nuisance of himself, but his brother was quite well behaved. In fact, Josh made himself useful, taking care of the grill. Josh had come along out of curiosity to see the new world in which his brother lived. He wanted to make a picture of it, and decide if his brother's years of studying, discipline and hard work had opened him doors into a better world. He observed the white folks with keen interest. On one hand he was impressed by the cleanliness and orderliness of this world. These people were polite and gentle and sure didn't live in the filth and violence of the hood. However, they were kind of reserved and weird. It wasn't like they were throwing their heads back and laughing and dancing and having fun, like he would have done if he had ever had so much money. In fact, he did it, without all the cash and the high titles they had. Josh fell into a good mood. He enjoyed himself, grilling, chatting with whoever came to get meat, flirting with the women, playing with the kids and joking with the men. Josh's philosophy to life was simple. Enjoy every moment, coz it might be your last. There were many things about life in the hood that he hated, when he got sentimental. And he had a strong suspicion that these people were in a way responsible for him and his lot being in the hood. However, he stopped himself being sentimental. There was no point to it. How could they ever fight these guys. Even if everybody in the hood armed themselves, and came for them, these guys had nuclear stuff and stealth bombers and a lot of kick ass shit. Josh went for a walk, hit a blunt and returned feeling good. He continued having fun at the grill. He could not decide whether his brother's effort had been worth it. But then again, Jones was Jones. He was so proud of his brother, though he could never tell him this. He had always been proud of him. That was why he had always beaten him up. He could not bear the fact that he looked up to his young brother, when it should have been the other way round. Pam and Judy, whom she had invited along, discreetly made their way away from the rest of their crowd. Standing between some bushes, they smoked a blunt. They then returned to the others and continued drinking. Judy suddenly pointed Josh out to Pam. She told her that big, dark, muscular black men like that one scared and excited her at the same time. Pam told Judy that she had had sex with a couple of black guys back in college, something which Judy found very exciting. From that moment on, Pam could not take her eyes off Josh. She didn't find him pretty, but there was something so animalistic about him. But it was raw type of animalism, not the type of mean, sick bestiality that her husband hid so well under his veneer of perfection. As she looked over at her husband, chatting with his workmates and laughing, she felt fear and revulsion for him. Pam realized that she loathed him. She still loved him, but his fakeness... Jones and Sheila started chatting after the match. People sort of looked at them. But nobody acted surprised. Everybody knew that Sheila was a white girl with a thing for blacks, so it was expected that she hang with Jones. When the two of them went to Josh to get some meat, Josh started kidding around with her and she had a good laugh with him. After a while, Jones decided to take her away. He didn't want his brother getting too friendly with her, and taking advantage of her... Jones realized that he was feeling jealous about the white girl and chuckled. Sheila was looking hot. She was wearing a halter top and a short, wraparound skirt. Jones saw her thighs for the first time. They were pale and freckled like the rest of her. But they were juicy, silky and alluring. He noticed that her ass looked much better in a tight wrap than when she wore her tube skirts. In fact, as he walked behind her, he liked watching the two round promontories flex and clench. "Excuse me, but are you watching my tiny white ass," she teased, catching him leering. "No. Just the skirt." They sat down next to each other and ate their steaks and hot dogs. "You know, I work out so hard and watch a strict diet to keep this ass small and tight, and then a black man comes along and tells me it should be bigger." "Come on, you have dated n**** before, and you know n**** need it big and fat, right?" "My ex didn't like fat asses. And he didn't speak ghetto, like your brother. He hated blacks from the ghetto. He said they made him feel ashamed. Do you feel the same?" "The hood is fucked, but who put the n**** there and made sure they cant come out?" "It bothers you a lot huh? But I know what you are talking about. Doesn't mean you shouldn't enjoy your life though. Lets go for a walk." They left the rest of the crowd behind and walked through the leafy park. Soon, they had left the rest of the crowd out of sight. Jones reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt he had gotten off Josh. Sheila withdrew her hand from her bag and she also had a blunt. "Great minds think alike," she laughed. "lets put them together and make them Siamese," Jones suggested. In the end they smoked them one after the other as they strolled and chatted. Sheila told Jones about herself. Her mother was English, her dad American. They were both college professors. She had started Oceanography and worked at it for three years in Florida. Then she had moved to be near her sick mom, done a secretarial course and landed the job at Denison tech. They sat down on a grass plain and continued chatting. There were many people picnicking. She asked Jones about himself and he found himself relating his life story. The two of them lost awareness of time. Their lives were so different, yet they could relate on so many different subjects. Jones realized that Sheila was well up on current affairs and events around the world as he was. And she had an attitude to life that pleased him. As the sun was starting to go down, it began to get chilly. Most people were leaving. Sheila shivered and they decided to go back to the others. Jones stood up and offered her his hand. He pulled her up with too much force and she shot into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her as she held his shoulders. Their eyes were inches from each other. "Was that a trick to get your hands on my white goodies," she teased. "Maybe," he replied, smiling flirtatiously. "You need to be careful. You might end up liking this white girl too much. Then you'd hate yourself." "Come on, you make it sound so bad." "Isn't it?" "Hell, its complicated and you know it. Please respect it Sheila." "Alright. But will this man of conviction allow this poor, ugly, skinny white chick one kiss of his beautiful black lips," she cooed softly, her hot breath flooding his nostrils. Without waiting for an answer, she snaked her arms around his neck and came for his lips. Jones big brown eyes were wide open. He seemed paralyzed, hypnotized. She kissed his lips softly. She pressed her thin, wide mouth into his and smacked him several kisses, slow, lingering kisses, without the tongue. Jones gasped for breath, but remained immobile as she withdrew her mouth. "Look! He's still alive," she chuckled and shifted on her feet, coming real close, to press into him. Her slim body was taut, yet soft and hot. He felt her hips press into his groin. She felt his hardness poke into her and breathed a sigh of his relief. At least his body wanted her. Sheila had never desired a man as she desired him. It was such a torture, to yearn after one whom she met every day of the working week, and who did his best to ignore her. But whenever their gaze held each other, she felt something between them, which did not come entirely from her side. She wasn't too sure, maybe she was just imagining things and painting herself a rosy picture. But maybe he did really want her. Well, the truth was in a kiss. She licked her lips, and cupped his head in both hands. "I am going to kiss you, Jones," she said, looking into his eyes. "My lips are dry, hold on," he said huskily, and licked his lips. She saw his fat, wet, pink tongue and couldn't control herself. She dove for it and sucked it into her mouth. Then they were kissing. His powerful arms crushed her into his body. His palms wrapped around her ass cheeks and he pulled her onto his hard cock, pressing it into her belly. She went on her tip toes to feel it in her wet, hungry pussy as their tongues slithered around each other. He kissed her aggressively, feasting on her wide mouth, pulling and sucking on her lips. closer. Sheila went wild with elation at this display of his passionate desire for her. She had not expected it, all the more so she enjoyed it. She pushed back from his lips, smiled dreamily into his eyes and said, "This is the most wonderful present..." She started licking and sucking on his thick lips. She just loved sucking on them. She explored them with her lips and tongue. Then she explored his mouth. He was now literary mauling her ass. She was only wearing a tiny thong under her dress and her thin skirt made it feel like his hands were on her bare ass. She parted her legs slightly so she could press her pussy slit along his length. She grinded slowly, forcefully against his cock, feeling it along her gash and on her excited clit. She went woozy and nearly lost her balance, but he held her slim frame firmly and kept grinding and mauling. As she felt her orgasm rush at her she laid her head on his shoulder and licked his dark neck. Then she was cumming hard. Her orgasm smashed over her and she shuddered heavily as she came in her panties. He held her and rocked her as she slowly gathered her senses. Finally, her legs regained their power and she stood upright. "Thanks baby. That was one of the kinkiest orgasms that I ever had," she cooed and kissed his lips. He feasted on her mouth again. Finally he pulled back. "Shit!" he laughed. "I never knew you were such a slut, dry humping in the park and bussin all over my dick." "I might have a few surprises for you yet Mr," Sheila giggled and looked around furtively. "You're scared someone from work has seen you cumming all over my black dick or what?" "No, just checking if someone is watching," she replied. There were only a couple of groups of youngsters left and they were not watching. "Come," Sheila said and led him behind some bushes. She led him to spot well hidden from all sides. She moved close and her hands slid around his hips, to cup his cheeks and squeeze them. dropped on her haunches and undid his pants. "What you doing?" "Returning the favor," she replied, kissed him, sticking her tongue into his mouth, and then she slowly sank down to her haunches. She pulled his shorts down his hips and his turgid cock slapped her in the face. He was hard and erect. She took him in both palms.