The Awkward Moment
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That Awkward Question free porn video
“You are going to have to push Mrs. Oakley,” the Doctor said, peering up from behind his mask between Farrah’s spread legs, “On three, okay?”
The moment had finally come and Farrah was so nervous she wanted to vomit right then and there. Her husband, Jeremey, was right beside her, holding her hand like had promised, encouraging her as he had promised, waiting for his newborn son to come into this world.
“One.”
Farrah felt so dizzied she might pass out. It was finally happening. All these long months of waiting, of worrying, had come to this.
“Two.”
She was about to be a mother. Something she had only dreamed of, but all the fear was welling inside of her making her want to burst.
“Three.”
Farrah’s body wretched and contorted as the baby began to come from inside of her. She could see the doctor slowly cradling a new life as the pain threshold far passed what she could withstand and she squeezed Jeremy’s hand so hard she heard tiny cracks as bones in his finger broke.
Farrah screamed bloody murder as the child pushed its way into this world. Suddenly, the pain diminished and a tiny, barely audible cry filled the delivery room.
The doctor turned on heel to clean the child and detach the umbilical cord, but in mere seconds Farrah and Jeremy were about to meet their new child.
The doctor turned to present the child, but Farrah could see it in his eyes. He hesitated in the slightest. She felt her throat collapse and her stomach surge with fresh bile ready to vomit once more. It turned out actions did have consequences.
***
Farrah was a twenty-six-year-old redhead with a penchant for jogging. Her ginger hair bobbed back and forth in a tight pony tail, swinging like a pendulum from side to side as she ran. Every morning it was the same routine, one mile down Main St, a left onto Maple for two miles, cut down Pine for three-quarters of a mile, and then the home stretch down Juniper for a grueling two and half mile finish.
The six and a quarter mile journey usually took her fifty minutes. Despite her good cardio routine, Farrah had anything but a runners’ body. She wasn’t pencil thin or cut with abs, but a had a normal, slim figure that still allowed for womanly curves in her hips and jiggly C-cup breasts that had to be restrained with a tight, black or purple or red or blue sports bra while she ran.
She usually wore dark yoga pants and track shoes, exposing her entire mid-section as she ran, something, that despite making her feel confident in herself, also attracted some unwanted attention.
It was on this particular morning that Farrah had her worst encounter yet. A man was blocking her path only one hundred yards in front of her. He had the hood of his sweatshirt up, his pants baggy and loose, and both of his hands in his pockets. She couldn’t see his face, but he was walking towards her, moving oddly, like he was drunk.
Farrah slowed, trying to come up with a plan to evade him, but the traffic on Main St. was too dense to cross. She took a deep breath, worried about this man for a reason she couldn’t put her hand on.
Twenty feet, then ten, she would be passing him any second. She tucked her head down, her ear plugs firmly in, trying not to make eye contact when suddenly his arm snapped out and grabbed her across her belly and pulled her towards him.
Farrah was now pressed against his chest, his fingers across her stomach and his other hand now drawing a knife to her throat.
“Give me your fucking wallet,” he screamed in her ear, his voice squeaky and awkwardly high-pitched.
“I…I don’t have anything on me!” Farrah said.
“Bullshit!” her assailant barked, the knife pressing thinly to her throat now.
His hand slipped from her stomach up and now grabbed at her breast while he playfully laughed in her ear.
“Well if you don’t have money to offer…”
Farrah panicked. It was broad daylight. Cars were driving past her. How could this be happening? She felt her attacker attempt to drag her off the side of the road towards bushes when suddenly his hand and body vanished.
She heard a grunt, a heavy hit and then something collapse before she worked up the courage to turn around.
When she did, a tall man in runners’ gear greeted her, with her would-be attacked lying flat on the pavement.
“Are you okay?” he asked, extending a hand.
“Y-yes.” Farrah said cautiously, still traumatized.
“Meth head,” he said, calmly, “Shits been getting into this neighborhood for years.”
“Oh.” Farrah said, it was all she could muster.
“I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but if I were a young, attractive woman like yourself, I’d either start running a different route, or bring a friend when coming down this way.”
“T-thanks,” Farrah said.
The stranger smiled again, “You want me to walk you home?”
“Yeah,” Farrah stammered, “That would be great.”
***
The doctor stopped, instead handing the infant to one of the nurses who quickly escorted it out of the room.
“Where are you taking him?” Jeremy pleaded, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfectly fine, Mr. Oakley,” the doctor said reassuringly, her calm smile somewhat appeasing Jeremy.
Farrah was frozen. Looking at her hands instead of the doctor or Jeremy.
“I actually just want to check up on Mrs. Oakley if you don’t mind while the baby is getting its routine check-up. Ten minutes’ tops, and then you can see him.”
“Oh, okay.” Jeremy said, looking to his wife and then the doctor.
“Ten minutes,” she repeated.
Jeremy quickly left the room. Farrah felt like ice had starting growing from the ceiling like stalactites.
The door closed behind Jeremy and the doctor sat down at the end of Farrah’s bed, undoing to gadgets that kept her legs open.
Farrah felt relief when she could finally close her legs again.
“I’ve seen this before,” the doctor said, “And it’s always an awkward question, but…is that your husbands baby?” Farrah felt the terror blocking her windpipe.
“You can be honest, Mrs. Oakley. You have doctor-patient confidentiality. I only ask because in the past, we’ve had…violent…confrontations over this sort of thing.”
Farrah felt like she had a scarlet letter on her hospital gown as plain as anyone to see. How could she have done this?
“No.” she said at last, the words feeling like razors as they ripped past her lips, “The baby is not his.”
***
Farrah was twenty-eight years old and had just moved in with her new husband Jeremy Oakley in a nicer part of town that she had been in before. No more meth heads, much less harassment from guys on the street. It was quiet, gated community.
Still, the redheads’ routine had made its way to her new place. Two miles down the cul de sac, a mile down Leister Path, a half mile across Manchester Way, and then the grueling two and half miles down Abbey Road. She had slowed to fifty-five minutes in her age.
Her sports bra still firmly held her jiggling breasts, her yoga pants showed off her strong frame, and her flat, but not ripped, stomach was exposed, tiny, tiny ripples of skin bouncing as she jogged.
Sweat had plastered her red hair firmly to her skull and her blue eyes seemed to sag as her pale flesh turned pink in the sun. She was nearing the end of her run now, most of the way down Abbey Road back to the end of the cul de sac where she and Jeremy lived when something stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Holy shit,” she said, too loudly, from the sidewalk, “It’s you.”
A tall gentlemen turned around from watering his yard to see Farrah standing as he had last seen her, sports bra and yoga pants, sweating, but at least this time she was smiling.
The guy smiled warmly, “It looks like you found a different route after all.”
Farrah laughed, blushing. Why was she blushing?
“When did you move in here?” she said, pulling the ear buds from her ears so she could hear him over the thump of hip hop.
“About a year ago,” he said, “My girlfriend and I had a tough falling out and I needed a fresh start.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Farrah said, “So you live in this sweet house all alone?”
He laughed, “Yeah, the ultimate bachelor pad I guess. What about you? You seeing anyone?”
Farrah froze, still blushing and overheated from her run, “No.” She laughed. Why the hell did she lie?
“We should get a drink sometime, then?”
Farrah felt panic from her lie. Why did she say she was single? Her husband and her lived only down the block.
“Maybe,” she said, with a wry smile, as she hurriedly stuffed the ear buds back in her ears and sprinted away.
***
“Maybe he won’t notice,” Farrah said.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Oakley,”
“Please call me Farrah.”
“I’m sorry Farrah, but it can’t be explained as coincidence.
“However, we have…made exceptions…for women who are looking to avoid any confrontation. People make mistakes. This is no different.”
“What do you mean?” Farrah asked.
“We’ve referred to this sorts of ‘miracles’ as genetic anomalies before. Usually we can convince the male partner that some part of either of your DNA laid dormant from a long ago ancestor to explain why the child is…much…much darker than both parents.”
Farrah looked up with tears in her eyes, not believing what was happening to her. She loved Jeremy. She loved him to bits. It had been a one-time thing she wanted to tell herself she regretted but she didn’t. It was wonderful. It was one of the best nights of her life, but she had hoped dearly she wouldn’t have to pay for it.
When she found out she was pregnant just six weeks later she spent every night of her pregnancy worried and hoping the baby would be Jeremy's and her secret, a mistake that she would never repeat, would never be revealed.
“You have to decide what to do, Farrah. The baby will be here in two minutes, and if you think it’s hard to explain to me what happened. It’s going to be much harder to explain to Mr. Oakley.”
***
Farrah sat at the bar in a shirt she hadn’t worn since Junior Year of college. It was tight, it had a deeper V in the neck than she cared for. It revealed her stomach which looked even paler in the soft lighting. She looked nothing like married financial advisor living in the suburbs and more like a ditzy slut.
Why had she dressed like this? She had told herself it was just going to be a drink…or two…and that she would slip in that she was seeing someone and quash any romantic feelings he might have for her.
Her head felt fuzzy once he came up to her, dressed in a nice button down and slacks, looking good next to her now.
“I will say you sure aren’t shy of showing off that tight body of yours, Farrah,”
“Thanks, Jackson,” she said, blushing again. Why did he have this effect on her?
She had thought about it a long time after she agreed to have a drink with him. Had it been because he had saved her? Did she feel like she owed him something? No, that’s not it.
She just saw him, tall, strong, handsome, and had just saved her and something inside of her had made an instinctive attraction to him.
By the end of Farrah’s third drink she still hadn’t mentioned Jeremy. Or a boyfriend. Or the fact that she didn’t plan on going home with him. After dancing on the floor with him for an hour, she had to tell herself she wasn’t going home with him.
When he invited her back to his place, she told herself she wasn’t going to sleep with him.
Nothing was going to happen.
***
Jeremey was back in the room and the doctor had gone to fetch their son. He looked worried, he kept asking Farrah if she was okay and she kept assuring him she was, even if that was furthest from the truth.
“I’m so excited to meet our baby boy!” Jeremy said with the boyish wonder than she enjoyed. His smile was so handsome. He was so kind and warm-hearted.
She was about to destroy him.
Farrah felt her spinal cord tense to the point it may have well bent into an ‘S’ shape when the doors hinges creaked open and the doctor strolled in with a bundled child.
“Ready to meet your son?” she said, holding the baby outstretched to Farrah.
Farrah opened her arms, now finally seeing the mocha colored skin of her baby as the doctor laid him into her arms. Her own, creamy Irish flesh contrasted against her child. She looked up at Jeremy whose mouth was slack jawed.
“Um,” Jeremy said, eyeing the doctor, who also happened to be black, “I don’t mean to sound racist or anything, but, that baby can’t be mine. It’s black.”
Jeremy held up his palms as if to show the doctor how white he was.
“I know, Mr. Oakley,” she said, “But sometimes, these things happen. Human DNA is strange. Genes can lay dormant for many generations. It is quite possible one of you has a black ancestor.”
Jeremy stared at the doctor like a confused bird. He looked from the doctor, to his baby, and finally to Farrah whose facial expression was blank and empty.
“Farrah?” he said, his voice cracking, “Farrah tell me the truth.”
The doctor stepped aside, leaving Jeremy and Farrah space.
“Is…is this my baby?” Jeremy let a single tear slip past his eyes and he quickly tried to wipe it dry with his sleeve, “Did…did you cheat on me?”
Farrah felt vomit first, then air, and finally the words slipped past her lips.
***
Jackson, fully believing Farrah was a single girl looking for a good time, had casually started his inside hot tub and suggested a drink in the bubbles.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Farrah said meekly.
“Don’t get shy now,” Jackson said, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his tight, flat and six-pack stomach.
Farrah felt her eyes grow heavy and sink, looking down at all of him. She felt a tinge between her legs, something she had desperately tried to suppress all evening. She didn’t understand her own actions. She loved Jeremy. She really truly did.
She kept rationalizing her behavior, saying she wouldn’t sleep with Jackson, that she wouldn’t (literally) put a black mark on her marriage. But now, looking at him, all that rational thought kept disappearing.
Her arms moved and suddenly her slutty little college shirt was gone and just her black bar covered her top. She undid her jeans, letting them fall aside to expose the matching black underwear. She reached back and tightened her red hair into a pony tail and slowly toed the hot water before getting in.
Jackson undid his slacks and was now in just his boxers, he slowly climbed in beside her with a glass of white wine. He handed one to Farrah and nestled himself beside her, his arms coolly slipping behind her shoulders.
The warm water only made Farrah hornier. She felt the instinct in her womb, her vagina was practically pulsating. It was taking everything in her not to succumb to Jackson’s advances. She had to run, she had to run right now, streaking back to her home in just her bra and undies or she was going to cheat on her husband. She knew it. She knew what was happening and what she had to do, but she remained still as he leaned in and his lips pressed against hers.
She opened her mouth, letting their tongues intertwine as every bit of moral fiber in her finally snapped and her hand quickly pressed against his chest, sliding down his skin until she reached his boxers, floating wildly with the hot tubs bubbles.
Her hand slipped in the slit of fabric and she felt his warm, hard cock in her hand. She rubbed his cock as they kissed, the warm water making everything steamy and hot.
She felt the hooks of her bra snap away and Jackson’s mouth pressed against her nipple, kissing her breasts as she rubbed his cock.
His fingers nestled her skin, touching her all over as she worked his shaft. She could feel him harden to full erection, his veins pulsating with blood as he longed for her body.
Jackson pulled Farrah out of the water, lifting her up on his broad shoulders and carrying her away. She looked down, seeing his large cock swing back and forth at his waist from above as she was laid to his bedroom, giggling like a fool.
He gently placed her at the end of his bed, pulling at her panties. He exposed her vagina, red hair smattered around it. His tongue forked between her legs and she felt the itching pulse that had troubled her all night finally get itched.
He expertly worked his mouth across her clitoris, causing a waterfall of anticipation to turn into a hurricane. She watched his head twist side to side and felt the spoils of his efforts in her body, deep, deep, slowly bringing to wake a dragon inside of her.
She felt the first tremor, a tiny, small hiccup of orgasm as Jackson’s mouth separated from her quim. He climbed up, pressing his firm chest against her exposed, milky breasts.
Their mouths met again, savagely exchanging saliva as their tongues twisted into knots over one another.
“I need you inside of me,” Farrah said, her words sounding foreign even to her, but they made perfect sense to Jackson.
He leaned back, pulling her hips up a bit so that the tip of his hard black cock touched the edge of her quim.
She saw the head push apart the folds of her vagina, opening her up and pushing his large black dick into her waiting, eager body. His penis was huge. Much bigger than any she had ever had. It was also her first black cock, and Farrah was trying not to equate size with skin color, but she felt the bashful rush of stigma from the taboo of interracial sex.
She watched with lustful, heavy eyes as Jackson’s pipe slowly entered her. Inch by inch, she tried to count them off in her head.
Four inches. Five inches. Six inches. Seven inches.
It was like a little game. When would all of him finally be inside her. She stopped her count at nine.
The mammoth penis felt like a giant log inside her body. She had never felt the walls of her vagina so tightly clamped around such a large phallus. She could feel the tiny muscles inside of her body stretching to accommodate his length and girth.
As Jackson pulled out of her, her body felt relief from the tiny stabs of pain from his size. But he slowly rocked into her again, then again, and again and again and each time the slight pain diminished until it exchanged itself for hot pleasure.
What was once tiny pricks were now tiny squirts of liquid secreting from her body. Jackson’s slow, laboring thrusts were more regular as her body slowly accepted such a large penis.
“Holy shit,” Farrah sighed, her fingers reaching out and lacing across his back, scratching at him when he was fully inside of her.
The slow, smooth drawls of his cock in her body were not enough. She wanted more. She wanted all of his big black cock pounding her tight white pussy.
She flipped him over, his back on the sheets and her body on top of his. The pace of their sex was quickening now. She lifted her hips up and down, feeling his enormous length slide in and out of her. His hands remained folded behind his head as Farrah rode him. Her hair slinking back and forth across her back as her tight body struggled to fuck his girth. White foam collected at the nape of her pussy as her body secreted more and more fluid from the pleasure of Jackson’s black cock.
Her white boobs bounced in his face, his lips sometimes kissing at her nipple as she rode him as hard as she could. Up and down. Up and down. The feeling of his mighty dick lampooning her like a spear each time. It amazed her how much more she could feel him, experience him, than her husband.
She felt fatigued, her loins aching and her skin glistening with sweat from working his cock so hard.
He quickly laced his fingers across her pale butt cheeks and clutched it in his hands. She relaxed as he took control. His hands worked her hips up and down even more rapidly than she ever could. His hands bounced her pale white ass up and down his black shaft like a basketball.
He dribbled her booty hard and she could hear the deep thrusting leading the loud slapping as the fat on her ass slapped against his six pack. Farrah could feel the skin on her butt jiggle as Jackson fucked her harder than anyone ever had.
The first earthquake rumbled through her as Farrah shouted in uncontrollable bliss. An orgasm ruptured through her, making her feel like her body was a dormant volcano ready to finally erupt. Her pussy twitched and exploded, she felt a burst of liquid from inside her begin to run from her body down the length of Jackson as he continued to dribble her bum.
“Oh fuck yes, that feels so good on my cock,” Jackson moaned, the feeling of the heat coating his cock as Farrah came.
Farrah’s ass had been turned a blotched red and pink from the hard fucking. Jackson quickly spun her on his cock so that she faced away from him. His hands supported his back and his fingers spread across her flat white tummy.
Farrah’s breasts bounced up and down as Jackson returned to fucking her. She could see from this angle, her breasts, firm and perky, bouncing like unison with the slapping sound of his balls against her white skin.
Then her flat stomach had long, black fingers spread across it, like shadows around her navel. Then came a small patch of red fur above her vagina, and lastly she could see his big black cock arching her up so that she could marvel briefly in its size before she felt her body plummet down it, feeling all of it inside of her.
She could take all of him now. She was working his cock like any other, feeling the continuous waves of orgasm fill her. A second major one hit, and she watched the liquid squirt forth from her body and across the bed like a spray of mist.
“Oh my fucking god,” Farrah screamed.
The sound of his mighty black balls slapping against her grew harsher and faster. Jackson was getting close to his own orgasm. She felt his fingers tightened their grip of her pale skin. She watched her milky breasts jiggle so quickly it looked more like they were vibrating. She felt her hair, sweaty and matted flat against her skull like it had been after a good hard run.
She felt a boom, like a bomb had been detonated inside of her belly as Jackson moaned through his teeth as he came. She felt the eruption of come explode from the head of his cock deep inside of her pussy.
The thrusting began harsher, deeper, more passionate, and more desperate as he orgasmed, the comfort and pleasure of Farrah’s body gripping his black dick.
The pace slowed, the breathing slowed, slower and slower until finally they came to rest. His cock came from inside of her body, coated with a mixture of his cum and her orgasm.
He was still erect, and Farrah’s hips had come to rest flat on his stomach and she could see and feel the black sword against her tummy from the outside. She looked down, it nearly reached her belly button. She couldn’t believe such a wonderful, large penis had been inside of her.
***
Jeremy looked pained and confused. He had just been told by his loving white wife that the black baby in her hands was in fact his.
“I didn’t cheat on you,” Farrah said, as convincing as she could.
Jeremy didn’t seem to want to believe her. He twisted his face and turned away as he contemplated what the doctor had said. He kept looking to the doctor, to the baby, to his wife. All of it seemed to confuse him further as he tried to rationalize it.
“My great-great-great-grand father was an explorer,” he said after a long while, “According to at least. Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I do have a black ancestor.”
“It’s very possible, Mr. Oakley. These genetic anomalies, while uncommon, are very scientifically possible,” the doctor said.
Farrah remained quiet, unable to speak, unsure of what Jeremy would do next.
“You are going to have to ask yourself, Mr. Oakley, is it more likely your wife cheated on you and is lying, or your ancestors may have black DNA in them and she has been faithful to you always?”
Jeremy was near tears, but he started nodding, desperate to believe the doctors words.
“Of course she wouldn’t cheat on me. She loves me and I love her,” Jeremy burst forward, rubbing the head of his newborn, “And I love our baby!”
The doctor smiled pleasantly back at Jeremy, who then leaned into the kiss the baby, leaving Farrah and the doctor to exchange looks.
Farrah looked empty and terrified, and the doctor simple shrugged and left the room.
Farrah had to listen on the phone as Jeremy told their entire family about their little black miracle. A story, only he seemed to believe.
Thirty-year old Farrah was out for a run in her sports bra and yoga pants. In motherhood, she thought her time would get slower, but with the added weight of the baby stroller, she had increased her six-mile time to forty-two minutes.
She was making her way down the home stretch towards her cul de sac where she and Jeremy lived when she passed Jackson’s house, like she did most mornings, only this time he happened to be in the yard, watering his plants when she came running by. Farrah didn’t stop, didn’t take the ear buds out of her head, she knew what happened last time she made that mistake. Instead she ran by, Jackson only curiously looking into the baby stroller as she did.
She never saw the smile that spread across his lips as he saw his son for the first time.
The moment had finally come and Farrah was so nervous she wanted to vomit right then and there. Her husband, Jeremey, was right beside her, holding her hand like had promised, encouraging her as he had promised, waiting for his newborn son to come into this world.
“One.”
Farrah felt so dizzied she might pass out. It was finally happening. All these long months of waiting, of worrying, had come to this.
“Two.”
She was about to be a mother. Something she had only dreamed of, but all the fear was welling inside of her making her want to burst.
“Three.”
Farrah’s body wretched and contorted as the baby began to come from inside of her. She could see the doctor slowly cradling a new life as the pain threshold far passed what she could withstand and she squeezed Jeremy’s hand so hard she heard tiny cracks as bones in his finger broke.
Farrah screamed bloody murder as the child pushed its way into this world. Suddenly, the pain diminished and a tiny, barely audible cry filled the delivery room.
The doctor turned on heel to clean the child and detach the umbilical cord, but in mere seconds Farrah and Jeremy were about to meet their new child.
The doctor turned to present the child, but Farrah could see it in his eyes. He hesitated in the slightest. She felt her throat collapse and her stomach surge with fresh bile ready to vomit once more. It turned out actions did have consequences.
***
Farrah was a twenty-six-year-old redhead with a penchant for jogging. Her ginger hair bobbed back and forth in a tight pony tail, swinging like a pendulum from side to side as she ran. Every morning it was the same routine, one mile down Main St, a left onto Maple for two miles, cut down Pine for three-quarters of a mile, and then the home stretch down Juniper for a grueling two and half mile finish.
The six and a quarter mile journey usually took her fifty minutes. Despite her good cardio routine, Farrah had anything but a runners’ body. She wasn’t pencil thin or cut with abs, but a had a normal, slim figure that still allowed for womanly curves in her hips and jiggly C-cup breasts that had to be restrained with a tight, black or purple or red or blue sports bra while she ran.
She usually wore dark yoga pants and track shoes, exposing her entire mid-section as she ran, something, that despite making her feel confident in herself, also attracted some unwanted attention.
It was on this particular morning that Farrah had her worst encounter yet. A man was blocking her path only one hundred yards in front of her. He had the hood of his sweatshirt up, his pants baggy and loose, and both of his hands in his pockets. She couldn’t see his face, but he was walking towards her, moving oddly, like he was drunk.
Farrah slowed, trying to come up with a plan to evade him, but the traffic on Main St. was too dense to cross. She took a deep breath, worried about this man for a reason she couldn’t put her hand on.
Twenty feet, then ten, she would be passing him any second. She tucked her head down, her ear plugs firmly in, trying not to make eye contact when suddenly his arm snapped out and grabbed her across her belly and pulled her towards him.
Farrah was now pressed against his chest, his fingers across her stomach and his other hand now drawing a knife to her throat.
“Give me your fucking wallet,” he screamed in her ear, his voice squeaky and awkwardly high-pitched.
“I…I don’t have anything on me!” Farrah said.
“Bullshit!” her assailant barked, the knife pressing thinly to her throat now.
His hand slipped from her stomach up and now grabbed at her breast while he playfully laughed in her ear.
“Well if you don’t have money to offer…”
Farrah panicked. It was broad daylight. Cars were driving past her. How could this be happening? She felt her attacker attempt to drag her off the side of the road towards bushes when suddenly his hand and body vanished.
She heard a grunt, a heavy hit and then something collapse before she worked up the courage to turn around.
When she did, a tall man in runners’ gear greeted her, with her would-be attacked lying flat on the pavement.
“Are you okay?” he asked, extending a hand.
“Y-yes.” Farrah said cautiously, still traumatized.
“Meth head,” he said, calmly, “Shits been getting into this neighborhood for years.”
“Oh.” Farrah said, it was all she could muster.
“I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but if I were a young, attractive woman like yourself, I’d either start running a different route, or bring a friend when coming down this way.”
“T-thanks,” Farrah said.
The stranger smiled again, “You want me to walk you home?”
“Yeah,” Farrah stammered, “That would be great.”
***
The doctor stopped, instead handing the infant to one of the nurses who quickly escorted it out of the room.
“Where are you taking him?” Jeremy pleaded, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is perfectly fine, Mr. Oakley,” the doctor said reassuringly, her calm smile somewhat appeasing Jeremy.
Farrah was frozen. Looking at her hands instead of the doctor or Jeremy.
“I actually just want to check up on Mrs. Oakley if you don’t mind while the baby is getting its routine check-up. Ten minutes’ tops, and then you can see him.”
“Oh, okay.” Jeremy said, looking to his wife and then the doctor.
“Ten minutes,” she repeated.
Jeremy quickly left the room. Farrah felt like ice had starting growing from the ceiling like stalactites.
The door closed behind Jeremy and the doctor sat down at the end of Farrah’s bed, undoing to gadgets that kept her legs open.
Farrah felt relief when she could finally close her legs again.
“I’ve seen this before,” the doctor said, “And it’s always an awkward question, but…is that your husbands baby?” Farrah felt the terror blocking her windpipe.
“You can be honest, Mrs. Oakley. You have doctor-patient confidentiality. I only ask because in the past, we’ve had…violent…confrontations over this sort of thing.”
Farrah felt like she had a scarlet letter on her hospital gown as plain as anyone to see. How could she have done this?
“No.” she said at last, the words feeling like razors as they ripped past her lips, “The baby is not his.”
***
Farrah was twenty-eight years old and had just moved in with her new husband Jeremy Oakley in a nicer part of town that she had been in before. No more meth heads, much less harassment from guys on the street. It was quiet, gated community.
Still, the redheads’ routine had made its way to her new place. Two miles down the cul de sac, a mile down Leister Path, a half mile across Manchester Way, and then the grueling two and half miles down Abbey Road. She had slowed to fifty-five minutes in her age.
Her sports bra still firmly held her jiggling breasts, her yoga pants showed off her strong frame, and her flat, but not ripped, stomach was exposed, tiny, tiny ripples of skin bouncing as she jogged.
Sweat had plastered her red hair firmly to her skull and her blue eyes seemed to sag as her pale flesh turned pink in the sun. She was nearing the end of her run now, most of the way down Abbey Road back to the end of the cul de sac where she and Jeremy lived when something stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Holy shit,” she said, too loudly, from the sidewalk, “It’s you.”
A tall gentlemen turned around from watering his yard to see Farrah standing as he had last seen her, sports bra and yoga pants, sweating, but at least this time she was smiling.
The guy smiled warmly, “It looks like you found a different route after all.”
Farrah laughed, blushing. Why was she blushing?
“When did you move in here?” she said, pulling the ear buds from her ears so she could hear him over the thump of hip hop.
“About a year ago,” he said, “My girlfriend and I had a tough falling out and I needed a fresh start.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Farrah said, “So you live in this sweet house all alone?”
He laughed, “Yeah, the ultimate bachelor pad I guess. What about you? You seeing anyone?”
Farrah froze, still blushing and overheated from her run, “No.” She laughed. Why the hell did she lie?
“We should get a drink sometime, then?”
Farrah felt panic from her lie. Why did she say she was single? Her husband and her lived only down the block.
“Maybe,” she said, with a wry smile, as she hurriedly stuffed the ear buds back in her ears and sprinted away.
***
“Maybe he won’t notice,” Farrah said.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Oakley,”
“Please call me Farrah.”
“I’m sorry Farrah, but it can’t be explained as coincidence.
“However, we have…made exceptions…for women who are looking to avoid any confrontation. People make mistakes. This is no different.”
“What do you mean?” Farrah asked.
“We’ve referred to this sorts of ‘miracles’ as genetic anomalies before. Usually we can convince the male partner that some part of either of your DNA laid dormant from a long ago ancestor to explain why the child is…much…much darker than both parents.”
Farrah looked up with tears in her eyes, not believing what was happening to her. She loved Jeremy. She loved him to bits. It had been a one-time thing she wanted to tell herself she regretted but she didn’t. It was wonderful. It was one of the best nights of her life, but she had hoped dearly she wouldn’t have to pay for it.
When she found out she was pregnant just six weeks later she spent every night of her pregnancy worried and hoping the baby would be Jeremy's and her secret, a mistake that she would never repeat, would never be revealed.
“You have to decide what to do, Farrah. The baby will be here in two minutes, and if you think it’s hard to explain to me what happened. It’s going to be much harder to explain to Mr. Oakley.”
***
Farrah sat at the bar in a shirt she hadn’t worn since Junior Year of college. It was tight, it had a deeper V in the neck than she cared for. It revealed her stomach which looked even paler in the soft lighting. She looked nothing like married financial advisor living in the suburbs and more like a ditzy slut.
Why had she dressed like this? She had told herself it was just going to be a drink…or two…and that she would slip in that she was seeing someone and quash any romantic feelings he might have for her.
Her head felt fuzzy once he came up to her, dressed in a nice button down and slacks, looking good next to her now.
“I will say you sure aren’t shy of showing off that tight body of yours, Farrah,”
“Thanks, Jackson,” she said, blushing again. Why did he have this effect on her?
She had thought about it a long time after she agreed to have a drink with him. Had it been because he had saved her? Did she feel like she owed him something? No, that’s not it.
She just saw him, tall, strong, handsome, and had just saved her and something inside of her had made an instinctive attraction to him.
By the end of Farrah’s third drink she still hadn’t mentioned Jeremy. Or a boyfriend. Or the fact that she didn’t plan on going home with him. After dancing on the floor with him for an hour, she had to tell herself she wasn’t going home with him.
When he invited her back to his place, she told herself she wasn’t going to sleep with him.
Nothing was going to happen.
***
Jeremey was back in the room and the doctor had gone to fetch their son. He looked worried, he kept asking Farrah if she was okay and she kept assuring him she was, even if that was furthest from the truth.
“I’m so excited to meet our baby boy!” Jeremy said with the boyish wonder than she enjoyed. His smile was so handsome. He was so kind and warm-hearted.
She was about to destroy him.
Farrah felt her spinal cord tense to the point it may have well bent into an ‘S’ shape when the doors hinges creaked open and the doctor strolled in with a bundled child.
“Ready to meet your son?” she said, holding the baby outstretched to Farrah.
Farrah opened her arms, now finally seeing the mocha colored skin of her baby as the doctor laid him into her arms. Her own, creamy Irish flesh contrasted against her child. She looked up at Jeremy whose mouth was slack jawed.
“Um,” Jeremy said, eyeing the doctor, who also happened to be black, “I don’t mean to sound racist or anything, but, that baby can’t be mine. It’s black.”
Jeremy held up his palms as if to show the doctor how white he was.
“I know, Mr. Oakley,” she said, “But sometimes, these things happen. Human DNA is strange. Genes can lay dormant for many generations. It is quite possible one of you has a black ancestor.”
Jeremy stared at the doctor like a confused bird. He looked from the doctor, to his baby, and finally to Farrah whose facial expression was blank and empty.
“Farrah?” he said, his voice cracking, “Farrah tell me the truth.”
The doctor stepped aside, leaving Jeremy and Farrah space.
“Is…is this my baby?” Jeremy let a single tear slip past his eyes and he quickly tried to wipe it dry with his sleeve, “Did…did you cheat on me?”
Farrah felt vomit first, then air, and finally the words slipped past her lips.
***
Jackson, fully believing Farrah was a single girl looking for a good time, had casually started his inside hot tub and suggested a drink in the bubbles.
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Farrah said meekly.
“Don’t get shy now,” Jackson said, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his tight, flat and six-pack stomach.
Farrah felt her eyes grow heavy and sink, looking down at all of him. She felt a tinge between her legs, something she had desperately tried to suppress all evening. She didn’t understand her own actions. She loved Jeremy. She really truly did.
She kept rationalizing her behavior, saying she wouldn’t sleep with Jackson, that she wouldn’t (literally) put a black mark on her marriage. But now, looking at him, all that rational thought kept disappearing.
Her arms moved and suddenly her slutty little college shirt was gone and just her black bar covered her top. She undid her jeans, letting them fall aside to expose the matching black underwear. She reached back and tightened her red hair into a pony tail and slowly toed the hot water before getting in.
Jackson undid his slacks and was now in just his boxers, he slowly climbed in beside her with a glass of white wine. He handed one to Farrah and nestled himself beside her, his arms coolly slipping behind her shoulders.
The warm water only made Farrah hornier. She felt the instinct in her womb, her vagina was practically pulsating. It was taking everything in her not to succumb to Jackson’s advances. She had to run, she had to run right now, streaking back to her home in just her bra and undies or she was going to cheat on her husband. She knew it. She knew what was happening and what she had to do, but she remained still as he leaned in and his lips pressed against hers.
She opened her mouth, letting their tongues intertwine as every bit of moral fiber in her finally snapped and her hand quickly pressed against his chest, sliding down his skin until she reached his boxers, floating wildly with the hot tubs bubbles.
Her hand slipped in the slit of fabric and she felt his warm, hard cock in her hand. She rubbed his cock as they kissed, the warm water making everything steamy and hot.
She felt the hooks of her bra snap away and Jackson’s mouth pressed against her nipple, kissing her breasts as she rubbed his cock.
His fingers nestled her skin, touching her all over as she worked his shaft. She could feel him harden to full erection, his veins pulsating with blood as he longed for her body.
Jackson pulled Farrah out of the water, lifting her up on his broad shoulders and carrying her away. She looked down, seeing his large cock swing back and forth at his waist from above as she was laid to his bedroom, giggling like a fool.
He gently placed her at the end of his bed, pulling at her panties. He exposed her vagina, red hair smattered around it. His tongue forked between her legs and she felt the itching pulse that had troubled her all night finally get itched.
He expertly worked his mouth across her clitoris, causing a waterfall of anticipation to turn into a hurricane. She watched his head twist side to side and felt the spoils of his efforts in her body, deep, deep, slowly bringing to wake a dragon inside of her.
She felt the first tremor, a tiny, small hiccup of orgasm as Jackson’s mouth separated from her quim. He climbed up, pressing his firm chest against her exposed, milky breasts.
Their mouths met again, savagely exchanging saliva as their tongues twisted into knots over one another.
“I need you inside of me,” Farrah said, her words sounding foreign even to her, but they made perfect sense to Jackson.
He leaned back, pulling her hips up a bit so that the tip of his hard black cock touched the edge of her quim.
She saw the head push apart the folds of her vagina, opening her up and pushing his large black dick into her waiting, eager body. His penis was huge. Much bigger than any she had ever had. It was also her first black cock, and Farrah was trying not to equate size with skin color, but she felt the bashful rush of stigma from the taboo of interracial sex.
She watched with lustful, heavy eyes as Jackson’s pipe slowly entered her. Inch by inch, she tried to count them off in her head.
Four inches. Five inches. Six inches. Seven inches.
It was like a little game. When would all of him finally be inside her. She stopped her count at nine.
The mammoth penis felt like a giant log inside her body. She had never felt the walls of her vagina so tightly clamped around such a large phallus. She could feel the tiny muscles inside of her body stretching to accommodate his length and girth.
As Jackson pulled out of her, her body felt relief from the tiny stabs of pain from his size. But he slowly rocked into her again, then again, and again and again and each time the slight pain diminished until it exchanged itself for hot pleasure.
What was once tiny pricks were now tiny squirts of liquid secreting from her body. Jackson’s slow, laboring thrusts were more regular as her body slowly accepted such a large penis.
“Holy shit,” Farrah sighed, her fingers reaching out and lacing across his back, scratching at him when he was fully inside of her.
The slow, smooth drawls of his cock in her body were not enough. She wanted more. She wanted all of his big black cock pounding her tight white pussy.
She flipped him over, his back on the sheets and her body on top of his. The pace of their sex was quickening now. She lifted her hips up and down, feeling his enormous length slide in and out of her. His hands remained folded behind his head as Farrah rode him. Her hair slinking back and forth across her back as her tight body struggled to fuck his girth. White foam collected at the nape of her pussy as her body secreted more and more fluid from the pleasure of Jackson’s black cock.
Her white boobs bounced in his face, his lips sometimes kissing at her nipple as she rode him as hard as she could. Up and down. Up and down. The feeling of his mighty dick lampooning her like a spear each time. It amazed her how much more she could feel him, experience him, than her husband.
She felt fatigued, her loins aching and her skin glistening with sweat from working his cock so hard.
He quickly laced his fingers across her pale butt cheeks and clutched it in his hands. She relaxed as he took control. His hands worked her hips up and down even more rapidly than she ever could. His hands bounced her pale white ass up and down his black shaft like a basketball.
He dribbled her booty hard and she could hear the deep thrusting leading the loud slapping as the fat on her ass slapped against his six pack. Farrah could feel the skin on her butt jiggle as Jackson fucked her harder than anyone ever had.
The first earthquake rumbled through her as Farrah shouted in uncontrollable bliss. An orgasm ruptured through her, making her feel like her body was a dormant volcano ready to finally erupt. Her pussy twitched and exploded, she felt a burst of liquid from inside her begin to run from her body down the length of Jackson as he continued to dribble her bum.
“Oh fuck yes, that feels so good on my cock,” Jackson moaned, the feeling of the heat coating his cock as Farrah came.
Farrah’s ass had been turned a blotched red and pink from the hard fucking. Jackson quickly spun her on his cock so that she faced away from him. His hands supported his back and his fingers spread across her flat white tummy.
Farrah’s breasts bounced up and down as Jackson returned to fucking her. She could see from this angle, her breasts, firm and perky, bouncing like unison with the slapping sound of his balls against her white skin.
Then her flat stomach had long, black fingers spread across it, like shadows around her navel. Then came a small patch of red fur above her vagina, and lastly she could see his big black cock arching her up so that she could marvel briefly in its size before she felt her body plummet down it, feeling all of it inside of her.
She could take all of him now. She was working his cock like any other, feeling the continuous waves of orgasm fill her. A second major one hit, and she watched the liquid squirt forth from her body and across the bed like a spray of mist.
“Oh my fucking god,” Farrah screamed.
The sound of his mighty black balls slapping against her grew harsher and faster. Jackson was getting close to his own orgasm. She felt his fingers tightened their grip of her pale skin. She watched her milky breasts jiggle so quickly it looked more like they were vibrating. She felt her hair, sweaty and matted flat against her skull like it had been after a good hard run.
She felt a boom, like a bomb had been detonated inside of her belly as Jackson moaned through his teeth as he came. She felt the eruption of come explode from the head of his cock deep inside of her pussy.
The thrusting began harsher, deeper, more passionate, and more desperate as he orgasmed, the comfort and pleasure of Farrah’s body gripping his black dick.
The pace slowed, the breathing slowed, slower and slower until finally they came to rest. His cock came from inside of her body, coated with a mixture of his cum and her orgasm.
He was still erect, and Farrah’s hips had come to rest flat on his stomach and she could see and feel the black sword against her tummy from the outside. She looked down, it nearly reached her belly button. She couldn’t believe such a wonderful, large penis had been inside of her.
***
Jeremy looked pained and confused. He had just been told by his loving white wife that the black baby in her hands was in fact his.
“I didn’t cheat on you,” Farrah said, as convincing as she could.
Jeremy didn’t seem to want to believe her. He twisted his face and turned away as he contemplated what the doctor had said. He kept looking to the doctor, to the baby, to his wife. All of it seemed to confuse him further as he tried to rationalize it.
“My great-great-great-grand father was an explorer,” he said after a long while, “According to at least. Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I do have a black ancestor.”
“It’s very possible, Mr. Oakley. These genetic anomalies, while uncommon, are very scientifically possible,” the doctor said.
Farrah remained quiet, unable to speak, unsure of what Jeremy would do next.
“You are going to have to ask yourself, Mr. Oakley, is it more likely your wife cheated on you and is lying, or your ancestors may have black DNA in them and she has been faithful to you always?”
Jeremy was near tears, but he started nodding, desperate to believe the doctors words.
“Of course she wouldn’t cheat on me. She loves me and I love her,” Jeremy burst forward, rubbing the head of his newborn, “And I love our baby!”
The doctor smiled pleasantly back at Jeremy, who then leaned into the kiss the baby, leaving Farrah and the doctor to exchange looks.
Farrah looked empty and terrified, and the doctor simple shrugged and left the room.
Farrah had to listen on the phone as Jeremy told their entire family about their little black miracle. A story, only he seemed to believe.
Thirty-year old Farrah was out for a run in her sports bra and yoga pants. In motherhood, she thought her time would get slower, but with the added weight of the baby stroller, she had increased her six-mile time to forty-two minutes.
She was making her way down the home stretch towards her cul de sac where she and Jeremy lived when she passed Jackson’s house, like she did most mornings, only this time he happened to be in the yard, watering his plants when she came running by. Farrah didn’t stop, didn’t take the ear buds out of her head, she knew what happened last time she made that mistake. Instead she ran by, Jackson only curiously looking into the baby stroller as she did.
She never saw the smile that spread across his lips as he saw his son for the first time.
Mikhaela
- 06.05.2020
- 15
- 0
- Category:
- Interracial
