Pantyhose-clad women getting black fucked

The Perils of Having a Black Creditor

It's tough being a degenerate gambler. What's even tougher is getting so far in debt with the local loansharks that you'll never be able to pay it back.

When they've taken your Lexus, kicked you out of your own house, and just about stripped your new cuckolds browniety little apartment of nearly anything of value, well... there's only one thing left.

Lynn is going to have to take one for the team. It's not like you have much choice in the matter.

Unfortunately, she's not really completely aligned with this idea. So you have no option besides adding another little white lie to your already mountainous heap of sins. You tell her to dress up, we're going out for takes and dancing.

When you drive up to the motel in a part of town in which "seedy" would be an exceptionally generous adjective, she's a bit puzzled.

When the door to room #204 opens up to reveal a room jam-packed with grinning, takesen, pot-smoking darkies, she openly revolts.

They grab her and drag her inside. You are ignored, your debt apparently forgotten for the moment. She's thrown on the bed like a rag doll and a savage pecking order asserts itself as they jockey to be the first ones to destroy her innocence.

Her screams are instantly muffled by more inches of cock than you've ever seen before. Not that it would matter in this neighborhood. Screams and gunshots are so commonly heard that they are routinely ignored.

Her dress is ripped down to her waist and pantyhose crotch immediately dissolves behind the encroaching black fingers. This unprecedented treatment of your bride hits you like a fist in the place where your manhood used to live.

A wail escapes her throat as the first cock plunges to the hilt. The train is leaving the station, with Lynn at the head of it.

It isn't long before they drag out a spreader bar from God knows where and shackle her nyloned ankles into it. She's completely helpless now, with her bulging, slick pink pussy wide open to anyone who wants it, for as long as they want it.

As one Negro shoots his nut wherever he happens to be, in mid-stroke or deep inside, another one is ready to take his place. A cycle of cock that will only be broken by their boredom -- nothing else.

You remain in the corner, unnoticed. The assault on your wife has ceased to sicken you, and begun to stir some other feelings deep within. You are hardly aware of your erection beginning to become quite visible.

In the brief interludes in which Lynn's throat is not filled with black cockmeat, she has been begging her captors not to do such things.

You notice for the first time that her fearful pleading has stopped.

The relentless pounding has kindled the unmistakable fires of lust in her masacara-smeared eyes. Instead of regarding her assailants with dread, she has begun to look at them in a new light.

She is beginning the glorious transformation from helpless victim of the inevitable to a willing and eager participant in her own wanton defilement.

As her utterances make the shift from pain and fear to lust and abandon, her movements become more insistent. She has seen the Way, the Light, and the Truth of Black Cock. And she is now a Believer.

The jeers and insults of the Black men also change in tone: the degrading things they call Lynn begin to take on an amusing and knowing tone. They, too, can detect the change from unspoiled white wife to Black Cock devotee.

As well they should: they've heard it a thousand times. The African-Americans maintain a long-held and firmly rooted belief from their enslaved ancestors who first discovered it: there is no white woman but will become permanently addicted to black cock given enough exposure to it.

You, of course, have no way of knowing this; but this particular crew of black thugs has converted several hundred white women to the irresistable lure of Black Cock... many of these women younger and more attractive than your own wife. And the best part (or worst, if you happen to be a white man) is that they will nevermore have the slightest use for the pale white appendage that dangles from every white man's crotch.

At that point, white man, you really only have two options.

1) Leave your blackened white wife and try to replace her from the dwindling pool of white women who are still ignorant of the power of the African fuckpole, or

2) Learn to accept your role as an inferior cocksman, and the Blacks as your superiors in every sexual way.

If you choose #2, you don't have to suck dick, take it up the ass, or anything like that... hell, it's not like you're gay.

But you probably will have to eat some leftover cum if you ever intend to orally please her again. And if she is exceptionally kind, you may even get to dip your tiny dick in her Blacksized fuckhole from time to time.

Take comfort, at least, that this road is well traveled. There are legions of white men who have learned to love the idea that their wife is fit only for African sexing.

And if you decide to choose that first option and seek out an unspoiled mate, be assured that this road is only temporary. If she hasn't experienced (and been ruined for you by) Black Dick, I assure you it's only a matter of time. Statistics don't lie.

Then again, it's really not as though the cuckold option is open to you here.

By indebting yourself so deeply to this local branch of the Original Vice Lords, you have permanently forfeited your claim to your wife Lynn. She is strictly black mens' property now, and won't be coming back with you.

Might as well rub one off through your pants now, because soon you'll be "asked" to leave anyway. Have a couple suitcases of Lynn's clothes and makeup packed, one of the homies will be by tomorrow afternoon to pick them up.

It won't be a pleasant thought to contemplate her future. You can count on the fact that she'll be the gang's resident fuck toy for a few weeks or even months. Her days will consist of spreading her legs for any gang member's whim, and her nights will see her covered in jism more often than not. She'll be powerd to wear the dog collar and chain, though she really won't mind too much. And the tattoos are next, marking her as gang property.

After that, she'll be put on the stroll. She won't be the prettiest or youngest whore, so she'll no doubt have to work the rougher parts of the ghetto. If she ever tires of her new life, she may attempt to find you again, knowing that your sexual psyche will be permanently twisted to the point you can accept even such a filthy, cum-guzzling, nigger-dick-addicted fucktoy as herself back into your life... and make her your Queen.

Thanks for the kind words, SW_BH!

I'm not done yet, not by a damned sight. Watch this space over the next week or two.

Jan B. Cuckolds Husband - Film at 11:00

It's always been supremely ironic that most men hit their sexual peak at 19, while women usually peak in their late 30's or early 40's.

Jan's husband is long past his sexual prime, not that (let's face it) it was much of a "prime" to begin with.