Amanda
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Amanda free porn video
manda Deacon was a married, white woman in her mid-twenties. Twenty-six, to be exact. She had a very nice body and firm ass, too good belonging to a married woman. A natural dark blonde woman, she was a head turner and would grab attention of any polite, white man if not for her wedding band. To aggressive black men, it did not matter. And Amanda was accustomed and very comfortable with black men, thanks to a progressive program sanctioned by The Black Power Movement.
She, like her husband, Miles, were participants of racial justice. They willingly surrendered white privledge and denounced the ideals of monogamy and succumbed to the primal needs of black men. Miles remembered vividly when Amanda gave herself to her first black lover, Kwame. It took weeks of suggestion and white guilt to break Amanda's reluctance. Miles had attributed to chemical imbalances, a diet of "energy pills", that eventually turned Amanda to the "black side". The effects were permanent. She was a black cock slut, proud and unashamed.
The last Miles saw of his wife is when he left their room at The Black Owned Motel. He left Amanda alone with Kwame and their "life coach", Zara Snow. It was Zara's instance that they took to a more modern and progressive marriage with cuckolding. Miles remembered the exhilaration and euphoric pleasure Amanda experienced with Kwame's manhood. He trembled at the thought of a city full of Kwames needing to fuck Amanda. Zara had given him Amanda's mobile phone, purse, and clothes. He felt terribly complicit he left his beloved wife naked and cashless. He felt he abandoned her to the will of Kwame and the black culture of the city of Black Pine. He wasn't just a cuckold but a pathetic, worthless white man.
But that was five days ago.
For the first three days, Zara would send him messages by phone that Amanda was alright. He would get a montage of images. In none of them did Amanda look into the camera. It was as if he was prying into the life of a complete stranger. Perhaps, it was true. Maybe didn't want to make contact with her husband. She was better without one. Amanda was liberated and free. Miles took out his phone and reviewed the collages.
DAY 1
Naked, Amanda was on her hands and knees on a bed. It was a close up on her face. She was looking ahead with a stunned, speechless look. Behind her was a black man. He presumed, Kwame. There was a caption, "Fucking the white race by getting fucked by the black race".
The second image was Amanda on her back and her legs up into the air. The camera was held further away as Miles could see Kwame dominating her. Fucking her. Amanda's eyes never left Kwame's. Kwame looked powerful and in control. Sweat on his brow made him look menacing if not sexual. The caption read, "Fighting racism with white pussy taking black cock". Miles figured they were somewhere other than the motel.
The third image was a closeup of Amanda on the left half looking up to Kwame off camera. She was holding his cock as her face and lips were splattered with cum. She had an open smile. A stream of cum bridged her top and bottom lips.
A final fourth image was an extreme close image of Amanda's pussy while she was on her back. Cum was dripping from her pussy and pooling on the bed. "This is what racial harmony looks like".
DAY 2
There were only two pictures in this collection. The first was an image of Amanda licking pussy. By the angle, it must have been held by the other woman. Miles wondered if it was Zara. His cock stiffened at the idea for he had a secret crush on her. He felt none guilty. She was a beautiful and overtly sexual woman. Miles noticed the pair of black hands gripping Amanda's ass from behind. Amanda's eyes were closed and her tongue was stretched out and tasting Zara's pussy. This was captioned, "White men not need apply".
The second picture rattled Miles. There was Amanda and two black men. She was naked, the shot was taken from the waist up. There was Kwame to the left looking lustful at Amanda in the middle. To the far right was an unnamed black gentleman. Amanda and the stranger locked eyes at each other as he had a firm grip on her breast. This had no caption, leaving Miles to wonder. Hopelessly wonder what happened next.
DAY 3
It was a picture taken in broad daylight outdoors. By the dilapidated street, it must have been taken in the red light district near a sketchy hotel or strip club. There was Amanda across the street. She was decked out in high heels, a mini skirt, and a bikini top. She had excessive make up that made her look a plastic toy. Her hair was beautifully prepared. Amanda sported a tiny purse, not unlike she left behind. She wasn't looking at the camera but down the street showing lots of legs. The caption plainly wrote, "A married, white woman ...". Miles stomach was hit.
The next image was Amanda bent over to talk to a black gentlemen through his driver's side window. She kicked one leg up and smiling. The caption simply said, "... working ...".
The third image was Amanda on the other side of the car. She had opened the passenger door and was on her way climbing in. The caption finished the story, "... to become a whore. Done."
The final image was very artistic in its strange way. She was on the bed, eyes closed, and smiling. She was teething a stack of bills in her mouth. Wearing a bikini top but naked below the waist, she was touching her clit. She was in the middle of a masturbation euphoria. There was no caption. Miles had wondered if Amanda realized her picture was taken. This was all too realistic to him.
There was nothing for Day 4. Miles deluded himself. He still held to the idea that his wife would come back and they could resume their marriage somehow. Deep down, he'd knew he would have to share her with black men in the community. The Black Power Movement had its loyal member.
THE TESTIMONIAL
Amanda sat in her chair not bothered by the studio lights. She sat in front of a black curtain and made sure her hair was neat. She sported a cutoff t-shirt reading "Fuck the white race" and very tight orange shorts. Off screen was a female interviewer, she is not seen. Amanda looks to the side of the camera. The following is a transcript.
Amanda: Hi, I'm Amanda and a proud member of The Black Power Movement. I'm here to pledge my heart and my body to the black race. I don't believe in racial equality ... I believe in black superiority! (cut to) I want to serve under the black man ... on my back, on my knees and elbows. (cut to) Racial justice means so much to me, I'd do anything. Recently, I turned my back on the white race by giving up on monogamy. Being faithful to my white husband was ... racist. (cut to) There are so many good black men needing pussy, I had to be part of the solution.
Interviewer: What do you find so attractive about black men?
Amanda: They are so handsome and dominating. They're passionate and know how to fuck a white woman. They take charge! We do things for them we have no stomach to do with a white guy. One look at their large, black cock, and I'll do whatever they want. I want to be their slut and be used.
Interviewer: You love being used? You're not just a slut are you? You're a whore?"
Amanda: [Laughing] Yes, I'm a slut. I love black cock! You have to love black cock to fight racism. And yes, I'm a whore. I'm so proud of that. I never felt so alive when I made myself available on the streets of my city. (cut to) I freed myself from white morality and guilt. I paraded my body shamelessly to black men who wanted me only for sex. They were honest with me and I with them. It's a beautiful ritual what I did out there. Every white woman should experience it.
Interviewer: Tell me about your first black lover and what happened with him.
Amanda: Kwame was such a gentleman! He broke my little white pussy in. He fucked me for two days straight before introducing me to his friends. (cut to) I could suck his cock all day. (cut to) Then he ... wanted me to whore myself to the street. That's when I learned I'm a natural. (cut to) I donated all my donations to the BPM. (cut to) Kwame drove me to the Migrant Hotel and escorted me to one of the rooms. We walked inside where four African migrants were waiting for us. It was there when Kwame said he had done his duty turning me into a black cock slut and was now 'finished with me'. (cut to) He broke up with me [chuckling]. (cut to) ... and he left me alone with these four, horny men who barely spoke a word of English. They started undressing me and I had my first gang-bang ... with African migrants. When Kwame got what he wanted from me and walked away, I loved him more! I don't know how long the four were fucking me, but I was in heaven. In another world. I knew I was making the world a better place. (cut to) I never swallowed so much cum in my life. I'm looking forward doing it again.
Interviewer: Would you recommend this lifestyle to other white women? Other wives?
Amanda: Gawd yes! This is the ONLY way to prove you're not a racist. It's so fucking awesome! Sex is the answer.
[Amanda continues her narration as we see Amanda lift her shirt showing her breasts]
Amanda: Cuckolding is not just a lifestyle. It's the way to show black men, 'you're more important' than my marriage. I'm willing to give up my body for their sexual needs. If superior black men want my pussy, I'm obligated to give it to them. [Amanda removes her pants, sits and spreads her legs. There is a close up of her pussy]
Interviewer: Very good. In the next room, I have two black gentlemen in their 60's. They haven't had pussy in over a week. Feel like fucking them?
Amanda: [smiles and nods]
Cut to: Amanda in the chair, we see two, naked black men from their chest down. She has a cock in each hand and give a blow job to the black gentleman to our left. We hear heaving breathing and loud slurping sounds. Amanda is going through making these two elderly gentlemen happy.
DAY 6: REUNION
Sitting in his SUV, Miles was waiting in the parking lot of The Black Bull Club. Part of the club was closed for a meeting sponsored by Black Power Movement. Miles had gotten the great news the night before. Amanda was ready to return home. He got the message from Zara who told him he could pick her up after the meeting was over. He could go inside if he wanted, but he had to wait until the "important" meeting was concluded. Miles, however, missed his wife and was very curious what had become of her. He exited his expensive SUV and navigated through the few number of cars in the lot.
He stepped inside the public side of the lounge. It was nearly empty save a bartender and a security guard. Miles walked to the bar and said he was here to meet his wife in a meeting. The black bartender chuckled. He pointed to the guard and the door next to him. The security guard opened the door for him and let him inside the private area.
The private side of the lounge looked strangely quiet and well lit. A place normally exciting at night was silent. A circle of folding chairs were in the middle of the dance floor. There were a number of whispering women. They ranged from 20s to their 40's and all white. He didn't notice at first, but Amanda came running to him. She looked cute and humble although she wore flat shoes, yoga pants, and a tight white shirt that read "I WANT BLACK POWER". She kissed him that seemed forever and smiled at him.
"How are you? I missed you! I'm so happy you came inside!" she said. Miles was speechless. "Listen, I'll tell you everything but I have to finish our discussion." explained Amanda, "We're having trouble getting across certain subjects with that uppity woman over there ... Alice."
Miles looked over to a woman, sitting alone in her chair. She was in her middle thirties, wearing a dress more suited for church. She looked attractive, but wore little or no make up. Alice looked a cute woman but shy and withdrawn. Alice may have sported a nice body no one could tell. Amanda whispered into Miles's ear for not to let anyone hear, "Alice is a church-going married woman who has a habit of fucking other men. Sunday night is when she turns into a she-whore. I've convinced her to come to this Black Power Movement meeting to make her feel this is normal and accepted behavior. But with black men." Amanda winked at Miles.
At Amanda's request, Miles took a seat in one of the bar booths where he could be alone and separate from the sensitive discussions. While in the booth, he marveled how Amanda led the group. She had become a more important member of the BPM since she saw her last.
Then Miles saw "her" and his heart raced.
There was Zara. She was the last to rejoin the circle. Facing the booth, she noticed Miles, smiled and waved. Miles naturally waved back. A natural gesture to a pretty girl. A sexy woman. His eyes followed Zara's every move. Including when Zara was texting her phone. Every single finger gesture was noticed and admired.
A buzz vibrated Miles's pants. It was his phone and he took a look at the text message.
"I know ur looking at me, naughty white boy!"
Miles looked up at Zara who waved her fingers at him. Miles blushed. He smiled like a little boy who got his hands caught in the cookie jar. He wondered how deep those pretty fingers went into Amanda's pussy. Miles cursed himself. He shouldn't have these thoughts.
The all-female discussion got a little heated and frustrated. Alice appeared on the defensive. She waved her hands and said loudly, "I just don't understand this ..."
The other women changed their tone and reconciled with her. Miles could only make out phrases, "it's natural", "cheating", "need sex", "black power", "fighting racism" and finally, "your obligation to yourself and the black race". Zara, the life coach, was strangely quiet. But she then stood and leaned into Alice. She appeared to scold her before giving her a tender kiss on the lips. She gave a second tender kiss and returned to her seat. Alice cleared her throat and confessed to the circle, "I need ... cock!"
The women applauded. They went to their feet and went to Alice to stand her up from her chair. Alice nodded to them and the ladies undressed her. Stepping out of the dress she was left with red bra and g-string panties. To Miles, this was becoming bizarre. Zara stood and gestured to the far side of the room. To who, Miles couldn't tell as he was in a booth with short walls to each side. Black men entered the dance floor. They were dressed in street clothes, many wearing ball caps, and brightly colored shoes. Two had taken Alice's hands and walked her to the double doors where she disappeared through.
Many women took a hand of a black gentleman and either disappeared into a booth and closing the curtains behind them or following Alice to the back room. In the scramble of men and women, he lost track of Amanda. But she would soon come, holding the hand of a black man who was anxiously following her into the booth. Amanda was giggly as she led the black man in. Amanda closed the curtain behind her and turned to Miles.
"Um, this is my husband. He's real progressive." Amanda explained as she pulled off her "I WANT BLACK POWER" shirt. "Honey, this is Obasi. He's an African migrant. I promised he could fuck me again, okay?"
Obasi was a man in his late 20's, bald and muscular. He obviously didn't care two licks Miles was in the booth and was busy pulling out his large, monstrous cock out from his pants. Amanda had pulled herself out of her yoga pants and sat on the booth. Obasi stood forward and let Miles's wife give him a blow job. Amanda looked over at Miles then plopped her lips off, "See, he doesn't mind." Obasi didn't take his eyes of Amanda and said with his West African accent, "Suck my black cock, white girl."
Amanda's eyes were only for Obasi. She licked his balls and spat on his cock. She gave it quick lashes with her tongue and fisted his shaft up and down. Amanda treated herself with several smacks of cock against her face. Obasi put his hand on Amanda's head and began thrusting his hips. Amanda gagged and bucked. The cuckold husband did not protest. He simply scooted to the far end of the booth giving the alpha male room. Obasi bucked and told Amanda, "I fuck your mouth, white girl. I fuck your race."
Amanda eyes opened and glared straight ahead. Showing no emotion, she let her black lover use her mouth and debase her. "I use your mouth. Yes, I use you." Obasi told her. The confident African was enjoying getting everything from this white girl. His giant balls demonstrated his manhood. When Obasi had enough, he made Amanda lick them. She about lost her face digging her nose into his heavy testicles. For a poor immigrant from Africa, knowing little of the language and the country, he showed dominance and a higher social status over Miles. After all, he was fucking his wife.
Amanda leaned back into the booth and raised her legs. Opening them, she looked over to her husband. "Look! Look what this African is going to do to me." she said. The dutiful cuckold looked. Obasi took his large, stiff manhood and aimed it at Amanda's pussy. He got a good look at her swollen clit and her new tattoo. A black spade. Miles swallowed hard. His heart dropped to his stomach. His wife wasn't just having sex with black men occasionally. She dedicated her life to them. To black cock.
Amanda yelped as Obasi filled her womb with his African manhood. She felt every pulsating vein. He pushed deep, filling her ... using her. She was a sex toy to use, abuse, and push aside. But she was the most important person in his life this moment. That made the moment beautiful. "Oh fuck me, Obasi!" said Amanda, "I love your black cock."
Obasi grunted at Amanda, "Good pussy. Slut wife. Your husband sits and watches while I fuck you with black cock. All white girls in your city are whores!" Obasi told her. Amanda smiled and went into her first orgasm. She wanted to tell Obasi how the white women in Black Pine will give him the pussy he needs. The husbands would stay quiet. Obasi is a god here. But all Amanda could muster out of her mouth was, "Fuck me and my race!"
Obasi was excited and fucked his slut hard. He pummeled his cock deep. He grabbed a breast and squeezed them. Amanda looked at her husband, "Look at me. Look at what I've become. This African is fucking your wife. This African owns me. Owns my white pussy! This is love." Obasi leaned in and kissed her. In the heated passion, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, fucking her there too. "I love your white pussy, my slut." he told her.
Amanda whispered to Obasi, "I love you." Obasi lifted his ass and dropped them. He penetrated as deep as he could go. Frustrated at his inability to cum, Obasi removed his cock and made Amanda put it into her mouth. She gave him a sloppy blow job as she tasted her pussy. Amanda spun on her knees and bent over on the booth for Obasi. Obasi got a good look at her ass and smiled. He needed this every day. Two or three times a day, he figured. He penetrated Amanda like he penetrated the women from his country. Amanda was built for sex with black men. The wife looked at her husband again, "Get used to this, sweetie. I'm fucking black and migrant cock, every day!"
"Fuck you and white people!" Obasi grunted. His love/hatred for white the race made him come close to cumming. Amanda reached out and grabbed her husband's crotch. She felt the stiffness there. In a determined tone of voice, almost hateful, she said aloud while staring into Miles's eyes, "Fuck the white race!"
Obasi's body stiffened before a jet of cum dumped inside Amanda. It poured inside her with enough sperm to father octuplets. Amanda orgasmed with him and dropped her head panting. He lifted and pulled his cock out of her and exhaled deeply. The African lust was sated if only for short moments. Obasi rubbed Amanda's ass and fingered her pussy admiring the gooey mess he left behind. "Good white slut. Good white slut." he muttered before grabbing his clothes and stumbled out through the curtains.
Amanda crawled up into Miles's lap and kissed him. The taste of cock and sex did not elude him. Cum dripped onto Miles's pant leg. So thick, he could feel the potent semen soak through the fabric onto his skin. Amanda, in a daze, began to tell Miles how much she learned in the past few days. She started to tell what happened after he stepped out of the motel room. Amanda explained how Zara joined them in the shower and they had a threesome into the night. Zara introduced her to bisexuality and learned how to eat pussy. She was taken to a nice hotel in the city where Kwame fucked her day and night and introduced her to other black men and experienced threesomes with two men. Miles sat and listened to stories how she whored for Kwame. It was first for fun but she became fascinated with the role play. She enjoyed how black men were looking at her with money in their hands. When Amanda started showing stubble for her pussy hair, Kwame took her to a place to remove the hair permanently. She would have a shaved pussy for life. They both celebrated the moment with a tattoo. That's when Amanda talked about the black spade over her pussy. It made her feel close to the black race and showed everyone she was fighting for racial justice. Her new tattoo came hours before Kwame dropped her off at the Migrant Hotel and left her behind to be gang-banged. It was so much cock she wasn't sure she could handle it. But Zara kept good watch over her and made sure she was safe and had her stay and sleep alone in an unoccupied room at the hotel rented by the BPM. Zara held several sessions with Amanda, consulting her, making sure she was healthy physically and emotionally. When Zara thought her therapy was successful, she told her it was time to return home and continue her cuckolding lifestyle.
"So, do you think we can make this marriage work. Under new rules?" she asked him. Miles could only nod. "Good. The only thing more important than our marriage is black cock. I want to fight racism, every fucking day." Miles had to nod again. They kissed again. She brushed his hair, "My sweet cuckold. Knowing his wife is a black cock slut."
Amanda stood and took her clothes. She told Miles she needed to go to the restroom and clean up. She opened the curtains and stepped out. Miles stood and exhaled. Everything was a buzz. Unreal. A walking daydream. Just as she thought his wife returned, it was Zara. Rushing in, Zara closed the curtains behind her. Miles was speechless. He should have felt guilty alone with a beautiful woman. But, Amanda is fucking other men. Just when he felt a touch of masculine pride, Zara took control and pushed him into a simple chair next to the table.
"Sit on your hands." she commanded.
Miles did what she wanted. Zara leaped on his lap, "Keep your hands under your ass, understand?" Miles nodded, "Uh-huh."
"I'm going to give you a gift for being such a good husband." she said. Miles almost swallowed his tongue when he said, "Okay."
"I'm going to give you a dance." Zara told him. She pulled off her shirt and exposed her perfect breasts to him. "Just sit on your hands and let me rub these on you." she told him. Miles would not disobey. Zara ground her hips, rubbing up and down Miles's crotch. She could even feel his smaller dick excited with her. She rubbed her tits across his face and whispered, "It's okay to put them in your mouth. I won't tell." Miles did it what she said. Her nipples tasted so, so good. It felt so good to have some sex, something, anything.
"Your wife is going to get a lot of black cock. And there is nothing you can do about it." she taunted him. "Nothing will make her more happy than big ... black ... cock. She's going to keep cheating on you. She won't care when it's with big ... black ... cock. Understand?"
Miles could only mutter a meek, "Yes." He would say anything with Zara on top of him.
"She's going to beg for black men to cum in her pussy, her ass, and in her mouth. She loves to suck black cock and eat black cum. I saw it." she whispered. Then she pulled back and said in a little girl's voice, "She'll never let you fuck her again. Only black cock." She then leaned forward and placed her nipple into his mouth. He sucked helplessly. She whispered in his ear, "Repeat after me, fuck the white race." She swiftly pulled away, and put her nose against his, "Say it!" she demanded.
Miles whispered, "Fuck the white race."
Zara kissed Miles and ground her hips against his bulge in his pants. He spattered cum. Zara knew it. She pulled back and rubbed her tits against his face one, final time. After a slight laugh, she stood and put on her shirt. "If you think I did this because I 'like' you. You're very mistaken." she told him before ripping open the curtains. "I needed to give Amanda time to clean up so she can go back for more black cock. Look!"
Miles leaned and looked out to the dance floor. There was Amanda, looking serious, leading a group of not one, not two, but three black males. Each were smiling and staring at Amanda's ass. They were almost cracking up and giggling. Through the double doors Amanda went. Zara looked over her shoulder before stepping out, "Bye, white boy." Miles figured he would need to wait a while longer before he could have his wife back. He then realized he could pull his hands out from under his ass.
Sitting there alone, feeling embarrassed as the only white man in the place, he noticed Alice stumbling out from the double doors. Wearing only her g-string panties, she carried her bra in her right hand. She stumbled across the floor and into Miles's booth. She plopped down looking exhausted, her hair a mess, streaks of drying fluid covered her face. At least Miles got a good close look at her fine body. There were bite marks on her breasts and neck and tiny bruises on her waist. Her nipples were hard, either from the cold air or excitement. Miles wondered what had she experienced in the back room Amanda disappeared to.
Alice turned her head to Miles. She looked groggy and drunk. Only then did she notice him staring at her. She told Miles, "You know, if you weren't white, I'd fuck you right now."
EPILOGUE
Safely back at home, Amanda took a long nap in her bed. She wore an overly large, white t-shirt and black pajamas. You'd never figure she was a raging nympho bent on subverting the white race for black superiority. Miles took a long look at her and hoped things could normalize. But with race relations as it stood, he didn't hold his breath. Miles walked through the kitchen to his living room where he daydreamed about getting a lap dance from Zara or seducing the church-going wife, Alice, to suck his cock. He had no other choice but begin masturbating.
Amanda's phone pinged. It woke her up. She rolled over to the nightstand, pulled her phone from the recharging cord, and read the message.
It was from Zara and it was BPM business.
"Need a volunteer for a bazaar at the high school coming up. Need to recruit new white girls to the 'move. Interested?" it read.
Amanda punched in her reply, "Count me in!"
She, like her husband, Miles, were participants of racial justice. They willingly surrendered white privledge and denounced the ideals of monogamy and succumbed to the primal needs of black men. Miles remembered vividly when Amanda gave herself to her first black lover, Kwame. It took weeks of suggestion and white guilt to break Amanda's reluctance. Miles had attributed to chemical imbalances, a diet of "energy pills", that eventually turned Amanda to the "black side". The effects were permanent. She was a black cock slut, proud and unashamed.
The last Miles saw of his wife is when he left their room at The Black Owned Motel. He left Amanda alone with Kwame and their "life coach", Zara Snow. It was Zara's instance that they took to a more modern and progressive marriage with cuckolding. Miles remembered the exhilaration and euphoric pleasure Amanda experienced with Kwame's manhood. He trembled at the thought of a city full of Kwames needing to fuck Amanda. Zara had given him Amanda's mobile phone, purse, and clothes. He felt terribly complicit he left his beloved wife naked and cashless. He felt he abandoned her to the will of Kwame and the black culture of the city of Black Pine. He wasn't just a cuckold but a pathetic, worthless white man.
But that was five days ago.
For the first three days, Zara would send him messages by phone that Amanda was alright. He would get a montage of images. In none of them did Amanda look into the camera. It was as if he was prying into the life of a complete stranger. Perhaps, it was true. Maybe didn't want to make contact with her husband. She was better without one. Amanda was liberated and free. Miles took out his phone and reviewed the collages.
DAY 1
Naked, Amanda was on her hands and knees on a bed. It was a close up on her face. She was looking ahead with a stunned, speechless look. Behind her was a black man. He presumed, Kwame. There was a caption, "Fucking the white race by getting fucked by the black race".
The second image was Amanda on her back and her legs up into the air. The camera was held further away as Miles could see Kwame dominating her. Fucking her. Amanda's eyes never left Kwame's. Kwame looked powerful and in control. Sweat on his brow made him look menacing if not sexual. The caption read, "Fighting racism with white pussy taking black cock". Miles figured they were somewhere other than the motel.
The third image was a closeup of Amanda on the left half looking up to Kwame off camera. She was holding his cock as her face and lips were splattered with cum. She had an open smile. A stream of cum bridged her top and bottom lips.
A final fourth image was an extreme close image of Amanda's pussy while she was on her back. Cum was dripping from her pussy and pooling on the bed. "This is what racial harmony looks like".
DAY 2
There were only two pictures in this collection. The first was an image of Amanda licking pussy. By the angle, it must have been held by the other woman. Miles wondered if it was Zara. His cock stiffened at the idea for he had a secret crush on her. He felt none guilty. She was a beautiful and overtly sexual woman. Miles noticed the pair of black hands gripping Amanda's ass from behind. Amanda's eyes were closed and her tongue was stretched out and tasting Zara's pussy. This was captioned, "White men not need apply".
The second picture rattled Miles. There was Amanda and two black men. She was naked, the shot was taken from the waist up. There was Kwame to the left looking lustful at Amanda in the middle. To the far right was an unnamed black gentleman. Amanda and the stranger locked eyes at each other as he had a firm grip on her breast. This had no caption, leaving Miles to wonder. Hopelessly wonder what happened next.
DAY 3
It was a picture taken in broad daylight outdoors. By the dilapidated street, it must have been taken in the red light district near a sketchy hotel or strip club. There was Amanda across the street. She was decked out in high heels, a mini skirt, and a bikini top. She had excessive make up that made her look a plastic toy. Her hair was beautifully prepared. Amanda sported a tiny purse, not unlike she left behind. She wasn't looking at the camera but down the street showing lots of legs. The caption plainly wrote, "A married, white woman ...". Miles stomach was hit.
The next image was Amanda bent over to talk to a black gentlemen through his driver's side window. She kicked one leg up and smiling. The caption simply said, "... working ...".
The third image was Amanda on the other side of the car. She had opened the passenger door and was on her way climbing in. The caption finished the story, "... to become a whore. Done."
The final image was very artistic in its strange way. She was on the bed, eyes closed, and smiling. She was teething a stack of bills in her mouth. Wearing a bikini top but naked below the waist, she was touching her clit. She was in the middle of a masturbation euphoria. There was no caption. Miles had wondered if Amanda realized her picture was taken. This was all too realistic to him.
There was nothing for Day 4. Miles deluded himself. He still held to the idea that his wife would come back and they could resume their marriage somehow. Deep down, he'd knew he would have to share her with black men in the community. The Black Power Movement had its loyal member.
THE TESTIMONIAL
Amanda sat in her chair not bothered by the studio lights. She sat in front of a black curtain and made sure her hair was neat. She sported a cutoff t-shirt reading "Fuck the white race" and very tight orange shorts. Off screen was a female interviewer, she is not seen. Amanda looks to the side of the camera. The following is a transcript.
Amanda: Hi, I'm Amanda and a proud member of The Black Power Movement. I'm here to pledge my heart and my body to the black race. I don't believe in racial equality ... I believe in black superiority! (cut to) I want to serve under the black man ... on my back, on my knees and elbows. (cut to) Racial justice means so much to me, I'd do anything. Recently, I turned my back on the white race by giving up on monogamy. Being faithful to my white husband was ... racist. (cut to) There are so many good black men needing pussy, I had to be part of the solution.
Interviewer: What do you find so attractive about black men?
Amanda: They are so handsome and dominating. They're passionate and know how to fuck a white woman. They take charge! We do things for them we have no stomach to do with a white guy. One look at their large, black cock, and I'll do whatever they want. I want to be their slut and be used.
Interviewer: You love being used? You're not just a slut are you? You're a whore?"
Amanda: [Laughing] Yes, I'm a slut. I love black cock! You have to love black cock to fight racism. And yes, I'm a whore. I'm so proud of that. I never felt so alive when I made myself available on the streets of my city. (cut to) I freed myself from white morality and guilt. I paraded my body shamelessly to black men who wanted me only for sex. They were honest with me and I with them. It's a beautiful ritual what I did out there. Every white woman should experience it.
Interviewer: Tell me about your first black lover and what happened with him.
Amanda: Kwame was such a gentleman! He broke my little white pussy in. He fucked me for two days straight before introducing me to his friends. (cut to) I could suck his cock all day. (cut to) Then he ... wanted me to whore myself to the street. That's when I learned I'm a natural. (cut to) I donated all my donations to the BPM. (cut to) Kwame drove me to the Migrant Hotel and escorted me to one of the rooms. We walked inside where four African migrants were waiting for us. It was there when Kwame said he had done his duty turning me into a black cock slut and was now 'finished with me'. (cut to) He broke up with me [chuckling]. (cut to) ... and he left me alone with these four, horny men who barely spoke a word of English. They started undressing me and I had my first gang-bang ... with African migrants. When Kwame got what he wanted from me and walked away, I loved him more! I don't know how long the four were fucking me, but I was in heaven. In another world. I knew I was making the world a better place. (cut to) I never swallowed so much cum in my life. I'm looking forward doing it again.
Interviewer: Would you recommend this lifestyle to other white women? Other wives?
Amanda: Gawd yes! This is the ONLY way to prove you're not a racist. It's so fucking awesome! Sex is the answer.
[Amanda continues her narration as we see Amanda lift her shirt showing her breasts]
Amanda: Cuckolding is not just a lifestyle. It's the way to show black men, 'you're more important' than my marriage. I'm willing to give up my body for their sexual needs. If superior black men want my pussy, I'm obligated to give it to them. [Amanda removes her pants, sits and spreads her legs. There is a close up of her pussy]
Interviewer: Very good. In the next room, I have two black gentlemen in their 60's. They haven't had pussy in over a week. Feel like fucking them?
Amanda: [smiles and nods]
Cut to: Amanda in the chair, we see two, naked black men from their chest down. She has a cock in each hand and give a blow job to the black gentleman to our left. We hear heaving breathing and loud slurping sounds. Amanda is going through making these two elderly gentlemen happy.
DAY 6: REUNION
Sitting in his SUV, Miles was waiting in the parking lot of The Black Bull Club. Part of the club was closed for a meeting sponsored by Black Power Movement. Miles had gotten the great news the night before. Amanda was ready to return home. He got the message from Zara who told him he could pick her up after the meeting was over. He could go inside if he wanted, but he had to wait until the "important" meeting was concluded. Miles, however, missed his wife and was very curious what had become of her. He exited his expensive SUV and navigated through the few number of cars in the lot.
He stepped inside the public side of the lounge. It was nearly empty save a bartender and a security guard. Miles walked to the bar and said he was here to meet his wife in a meeting. The black bartender chuckled. He pointed to the guard and the door next to him. The security guard opened the door for him and let him inside the private area.
The private side of the lounge looked strangely quiet and well lit. A place normally exciting at night was silent. A circle of folding chairs were in the middle of the dance floor. There were a number of whispering women. They ranged from 20s to their 40's and all white. He didn't notice at first, but Amanda came running to him. She looked cute and humble although she wore flat shoes, yoga pants, and a tight white shirt that read "I WANT BLACK POWER". She kissed him that seemed forever and smiled at him.
"How are you? I missed you! I'm so happy you came inside!" she said. Miles was speechless. "Listen, I'll tell you everything but I have to finish our discussion." explained Amanda, "We're having trouble getting across certain subjects with that uppity woman over there ... Alice."
Miles looked over to a woman, sitting alone in her chair. She was in her middle thirties, wearing a dress more suited for church. She looked attractive, but wore little or no make up. Alice looked a cute woman but shy and withdrawn. Alice may have sported a nice body no one could tell. Amanda whispered into Miles's ear for not to let anyone hear, "Alice is a church-going married woman who has a habit of fucking other men. Sunday night is when she turns into a she-whore. I've convinced her to come to this Black Power Movement meeting to make her feel this is normal and accepted behavior. But with black men." Amanda winked at Miles.
At Amanda's request, Miles took a seat in one of the bar booths where he could be alone and separate from the sensitive discussions. While in the booth, he marveled how Amanda led the group. She had become a more important member of the BPM since she saw her last.
Then Miles saw "her" and his heart raced.
There was Zara. She was the last to rejoin the circle. Facing the booth, she noticed Miles, smiled and waved. Miles naturally waved back. A natural gesture to a pretty girl. A sexy woman. His eyes followed Zara's every move. Including when Zara was texting her phone. Every single finger gesture was noticed and admired.
A buzz vibrated Miles's pants. It was his phone and he took a look at the text message.
"I know ur looking at me, naughty white boy!"
Miles looked up at Zara who waved her fingers at him. Miles blushed. He smiled like a little boy who got his hands caught in the cookie jar. He wondered how deep those pretty fingers went into Amanda's pussy. Miles cursed himself. He shouldn't have these thoughts.
The all-female discussion got a little heated and frustrated. Alice appeared on the defensive. She waved her hands and said loudly, "I just don't understand this ..."
The other women changed their tone and reconciled with her. Miles could only make out phrases, "it's natural", "cheating", "need sex", "black power", "fighting racism" and finally, "your obligation to yourself and the black race". Zara, the life coach, was strangely quiet. But she then stood and leaned into Alice. She appeared to scold her before giving her a tender kiss on the lips. She gave a second tender kiss and returned to her seat. Alice cleared her throat and confessed to the circle, "I need ... cock!"
The women applauded. They went to their feet and went to Alice to stand her up from her chair. Alice nodded to them and the ladies undressed her. Stepping out of the dress she was left with red bra and g-string panties. To Miles, this was becoming bizarre. Zara stood and gestured to the far side of the room. To who, Miles couldn't tell as he was in a booth with short walls to each side. Black men entered the dance floor. They were dressed in street clothes, many wearing ball caps, and brightly colored shoes. Two had taken Alice's hands and walked her to the double doors where she disappeared through.
Many women took a hand of a black gentleman and either disappeared into a booth and closing the curtains behind them or following Alice to the back room. In the scramble of men and women, he lost track of Amanda. But she would soon come, holding the hand of a black man who was anxiously following her into the booth. Amanda was giggly as she led the black man in. Amanda closed the curtain behind her and turned to Miles.
"Um, this is my husband. He's real progressive." Amanda explained as she pulled off her "I WANT BLACK POWER" shirt. "Honey, this is Obasi. He's an African migrant. I promised he could fuck me again, okay?"
Obasi was a man in his late 20's, bald and muscular. He obviously didn't care two licks Miles was in the booth and was busy pulling out his large, monstrous cock out from his pants. Amanda had pulled herself out of her yoga pants and sat on the booth. Obasi stood forward and let Miles's wife give him a blow job. Amanda looked over at Miles then plopped her lips off, "See, he doesn't mind." Obasi didn't take his eyes of Amanda and said with his West African accent, "Suck my black cock, white girl."
Amanda's eyes were only for Obasi. She licked his balls and spat on his cock. She gave it quick lashes with her tongue and fisted his shaft up and down. Amanda treated herself with several smacks of cock against her face. Obasi put his hand on Amanda's head and began thrusting his hips. Amanda gagged and bucked. The cuckold husband did not protest. He simply scooted to the far end of the booth giving the alpha male room. Obasi bucked and told Amanda, "I fuck your mouth, white girl. I fuck your race."
Amanda eyes opened and glared straight ahead. Showing no emotion, she let her black lover use her mouth and debase her. "I use your mouth. Yes, I use you." Obasi told her. The confident African was enjoying getting everything from this white girl. His giant balls demonstrated his manhood. When Obasi had enough, he made Amanda lick them. She about lost her face digging her nose into his heavy testicles. For a poor immigrant from Africa, knowing little of the language and the country, he showed dominance and a higher social status over Miles. After all, he was fucking his wife.
Amanda leaned back into the booth and raised her legs. Opening them, she looked over to her husband. "Look! Look what this African is going to do to me." she said. The dutiful cuckold looked. Obasi took his large, stiff manhood and aimed it at Amanda's pussy. He got a good look at her swollen clit and her new tattoo. A black spade. Miles swallowed hard. His heart dropped to his stomach. His wife wasn't just having sex with black men occasionally. She dedicated her life to them. To black cock.
Amanda yelped as Obasi filled her womb with his African manhood. She felt every pulsating vein. He pushed deep, filling her ... using her. She was a sex toy to use, abuse, and push aside. But she was the most important person in his life this moment. That made the moment beautiful. "Oh fuck me, Obasi!" said Amanda, "I love your black cock."
Obasi grunted at Amanda, "Good pussy. Slut wife. Your husband sits and watches while I fuck you with black cock. All white girls in your city are whores!" Obasi told her. Amanda smiled and went into her first orgasm. She wanted to tell Obasi how the white women in Black Pine will give him the pussy he needs. The husbands would stay quiet. Obasi is a god here. But all Amanda could muster out of her mouth was, "Fuck me and my race!"
Obasi was excited and fucked his slut hard. He pummeled his cock deep. He grabbed a breast and squeezed them. Amanda looked at her husband, "Look at me. Look at what I've become. This African is fucking your wife. This African owns me. Owns my white pussy! This is love." Obasi leaned in and kissed her. In the heated passion, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, fucking her there too. "I love your white pussy, my slut." he told her.
Amanda whispered to Obasi, "I love you." Obasi lifted his ass and dropped them. He penetrated as deep as he could go. Frustrated at his inability to cum, Obasi removed his cock and made Amanda put it into her mouth. She gave him a sloppy blow job as she tasted her pussy. Amanda spun on her knees and bent over on the booth for Obasi. Obasi got a good look at her ass and smiled. He needed this every day. Two or three times a day, he figured. He penetrated Amanda like he penetrated the women from his country. Amanda was built for sex with black men. The wife looked at her husband again, "Get used to this, sweetie. I'm fucking black and migrant cock, every day!"
"Fuck you and white people!" Obasi grunted. His love/hatred for white the race made him come close to cumming. Amanda reached out and grabbed her husband's crotch. She felt the stiffness there. In a determined tone of voice, almost hateful, she said aloud while staring into Miles's eyes, "Fuck the white race!"
Obasi's body stiffened before a jet of cum dumped inside Amanda. It poured inside her with enough sperm to father octuplets. Amanda orgasmed with him and dropped her head panting. He lifted and pulled his cock out of her and exhaled deeply. The African lust was sated if only for short moments. Obasi rubbed Amanda's ass and fingered her pussy admiring the gooey mess he left behind. "Good white slut. Good white slut." he muttered before grabbing his clothes and stumbled out through the curtains.
Amanda crawled up into Miles's lap and kissed him. The taste of cock and sex did not elude him. Cum dripped onto Miles's pant leg. So thick, he could feel the potent semen soak through the fabric onto his skin. Amanda, in a daze, began to tell Miles how much she learned in the past few days. She started to tell what happened after he stepped out of the motel room. Amanda explained how Zara joined them in the shower and they had a threesome into the night. Zara introduced her to bisexuality and learned how to eat pussy. She was taken to a nice hotel in the city where Kwame fucked her day and night and introduced her to other black men and experienced threesomes with two men. Miles sat and listened to stories how she whored for Kwame. It was first for fun but she became fascinated with the role play. She enjoyed how black men were looking at her with money in their hands. When Amanda started showing stubble for her pussy hair, Kwame took her to a place to remove the hair permanently. She would have a shaved pussy for life. They both celebrated the moment with a tattoo. That's when Amanda talked about the black spade over her pussy. It made her feel close to the black race and showed everyone she was fighting for racial justice. Her new tattoo came hours before Kwame dropped her off at the Migrant Hotel and left her behind to be gang-banged. It was so much cock she wasn't sure she could handle it. But Zara kept good watch over her and made sure she was safe and had her stay and sleep alone in an unoccupied room at the hotel rented by the BPM. Zara held several sessions with Amanda, consulting her, making sure she was healthy physically and emotionally. When Zara thought her therapy was successful, she told her it was time to return home and continue her cuckolding lifestyle.
"So, do you think we can make this marriage work. Under new rules?" she asked him. Miles could only nod. "Good. The only thing more important than our marriage is black cock. I want to fight racism, every fucking day." Miles had to nod again. They kissed again. She brushed his hair, "My sweet cuckold. Knowing his wife is a black cock slut."
Amanda stood and took her clothes. She told Miles she needed to go to the restroom and clean up. She opened the curtains and stepped out. Miles stood and exhaled. Everything was a buzz. Unreal. A walking daydream. Just as she thought his wife returned, it was Zara. Rushing in, Zara closed the curtains behind her. Miles was speechless. He should have felt guilty alone with a beautiful woman. But, Amanda is fucking other men. Just when he felt a touch of masculine pride, Zara took control and pushed him into a simple chair next to the table.
"Sit on your hands." she commanded.
Miles did what she wanted. Zara leaped on his lap, "Keep your hands under your ass, understand?" Miles nodded, "Uh-huh."
"I'm going to give you a gift for being such a good husband." she said. Miles almost swallowed his tongue when he said, "Okay."
"I'm going to give you a dance." Zara told him. She pulled off her shirt and exposed her perfect breasts to him. "Just sit on your hands and let me rub these on you." she told him. Miles would not disobey. Zara ground her hips, rubbing up and down Miles's crotch. She could even feel his smaller dick excited with her. She rubbed her tits across his face and whispered, "It's okay to put them in your mouth. I won't tell." Miles did it what she said. Her nipples tasted so, so good. It felt so good to have some sex, something, anything.
"Your wife is going to get a lot of black cock. And there is nothing you can do about it." she taunted him. "Nothing will make her more happy than big ... black ... cock. She's going to keep cheating on you. She won't care when it's with big ... black ... cock. Understand?"
Miles could only mutter a meek, "Yes." He would say anything with Zara on top of him.
"She's going to beg for black men to cum in her pussy, her ass, and in her mouth. She loves to suck black cock and eat black cum. I saw it." she whispered. Then she pulled back and said in a little girl's voice, "She'll never let you fuck her again. Only black cock." She then leaned forward and placed her nipple into his mouth. He sucked helplessly. She whispered in his ear, "Repeat after me, fuck the white race." She swiftly pulled away, and put her nose against his, "Say it!" she demanded.
Miles whispered, "Fuck the white race."
Zara kissed Miles and ground her hips against his bulge in his pants. He spattered cum. Zara knew it. She pulled back and rubbed her tits against his face one, final time. After a slight laugh, she stood and put on her shirt. "If you think I did this because I 'like' you. You're very mistaken." she told him before ripping open the curtains. "I needed to give Amanda time to clean up so she can go back for more black cock. Look!"
Miles leaned and looked out to the dance floor. There was Amanda, looking serious, leading a group of not one, not two, but three black males. Each were smiling and staring at Amanda's ass. They were almost cracking up and giggling. Through the double doors Amanda went. Zara looked over her shoulder before stepping out, "Bye, white boy." Miles figured he would need to wait a while longer before he could have his wife back. He then realized he could pull his hands out from under his ass.
Sitting there alone, feeling embarrassed as the only white man in the place, he noticed Alice stumbling out from the double doors. Wearing only her g-string panties, she carried her bra in her right hand. She stumbled across the floor and into Miles's booth. She plopped down looking exhausted, her hair a mess, streaks of drying fluid covered her face. At least Miles got a good close look at her fine body. There were bite marks on her breasts and neck and tiny bruises on her waist. Her nipples were hard, either from the cold air or excitement. Miles wondered what had she experienced in the back room Amanda disappeared to.
Alice turned her head to Miles. She looked groggy and drunk. Only then did she notice him staring at her. She told Miles, "You know, if you weren't white, I'd fuck you right now."
EPILOGUE
Safely back at home, Amanda took a long nap in her bed. She wore an overly large, white t-shirt and black pajamas. You'd never figure she was a raging nympho bent on subverting the white race for black superiority. Miles took a long look at her and hoped things could normalize. But with race relations as it stood, he didn't hold his breath. Miles walked through the kitchen to his living room where he daydreamed about getting a lap dance from Zara or seducing the church-going wife, Alice, to suck his cock. He had no other choice but begin masturbating.
Amanda's phone pinged. It woke her up. She rolled over to the nightstand, pulled her phone from the recharging cord, and read the message.
It was from Zara and it was BPM business.
"Need a volunteer for a bazaar at the high school coming up. Need to recruit new white girls to the 'move. Interested?" it read.
Amanda punched in her reply, "Count me in!"
Maris
- 21.09.2020
- 53
- 0
