I apologize for the length of this story. I just felt my background was important.
I come from an extremely conservative, Christian, far right background. I grew up in a very small town farming community. It was very accepted and encouraged to be racist, homophobic, and pro-life. The majority of people in town were of course white. However, being a farming community, we had a large number of migrant Hispanic workers. So, as you can guess, there was a lot of racist comments and stereotypes that were common. You were more likely to hear the terms wetback, beaner, spic, etc than to hear ‘Hispanic’ or ‘migrant workers’. It was also drilled into us girls growing up there, that it was not safe for us to be alone in any of the areas that these people were in. We were told that they would rape, abuse, and possibly murder us. There were absolutely no black people in the area, but it was still common to hear people refer to them in derogatory terms. It was especially common for my parents to do so everytime we traveled to the nearest city, which did have a large population of black people. And once again, I was warned how ‘dangerous’ it was for me to ever be in a ‘black’ neighborhood.
As I mentioned, it was a Christian upbringing as well. I attended church every Sunday, Bible study on Tuesday nights, and youth group on Thursday nights. It was in the youth group that I met my husband. I was 17 at the time, and a senior in high school. He was 27 and just out of seminary school, working at my church as the youth pastor. My parents were thrilled, and we were married as soon as I turned 18. By the time I was 22 I was pregnant with my 4th child. Soon after, my husband got a job at a bigger church, in the suburbs of the city. We moved to an upscale suburb that was again, mostly white. While the outspoken racism was not prevalent here, there was still a definite undertone of racism in people’s actions and attitudes towards others.
While my husband and I still had sex, it was definitely not as frequent as before. And, I had learned to track my cycle so I could deny him when I was most fertile, and have sex only when I thought I was safe. I didn’t want any more children, and he seemed okay by this arrangement. As the years went by, my husband got promoted, and took over the church as the head pastor. Of course, this meant his responsibilities would increase dramatically. This meant he was home less and less over time.
Now, I’m sure everyone is bored to tears over my backstory, but I felt it was important to know all this before I tell the next part. At this point in my life, I was 35. My oldest child was a senior in high school, and my youngest was in their last year of middle school. This meant that I was home alone for long periods of time. Part of my husband’s job was working with rehabilitating young people who had mostly had drug related problems. Part of this was getting them involved in rehabilitation services, and part was to help them learn and mentor them towards getting a job. One of the first people my husband was helping was a 19 year old black kid, who had been arrested for selling and using drugs. While my husband is not nearly as racist as myself or my family, there was still a certain level of racism he had that led him to feel the only things this kid could learn would be manual labor. So, my husband decided he would have the kid do work around the church and our home; from taking care of the lawns and landscaping, to learning to fix plumbing and other household repairs.
Being a pastors wife, and one that is a stay at home mom, means taking on some of the responsibilities of your husbands job. This meant that I would be partially responsible for making sure this kid performed the duties he was assigned, particularly those that took place at our home. This meant I had to let him into my home, interact with him, and direct him in what he was supposed to do that day. Due to my upbringing, I really did not feel comfortable doing this, but I begrudgingly did so, to please my husband.
Andre was a nice enough and respectable enough young man. He always acted respectfully to me, and always did his best to perform whatever tasks he was assigned. However, I still did my best to interact as little as possible. Andre was almost always dropped off and picked up by his father. He once came to the door to see if Andre was ready, and I somewhat rudely told him he would be out soon, and he could wait in his car. After that, he never came back to the door, and would just honk his horn to let Andre know he was there.
One day, my husband was still home when Andre’s father showed up, honking to let Andre know he was there. My husband asked about it, and I told him what had happened the first time Darnell came to the door. My husband, stating that I had been rude, went out to the car and asked Darnell to come in and wait for Andre. He told Darnell that Andre was a bit behind on the project he was working on, but that Darnell could wait in the living room and have an iced tea while he waited. Darnell of course accepted and was sitting in the living room with my husband and I. After only a couple of minutes, my husband got an emergency call about one of the church members who was in the hospital. He apologized and left, leaving me sitting awkwardly with Darnell.
It wasn’t long after my husband left that Darnell started asking me extremely inappropriate questions. He asked about how long my husband and I had been together, and some similar questions. Then he looked at me and smiled, saying, “your husband is the only man you have ever been with sexually, isn’t he?” I just about choked on my iced tea when he said that. “That’s really not any of your business.” Darnell smiled again. “Sorry. It just seemed like that was the most likely case. And I bet your sex life is pretty bland and boring too.”
I’m sure Darnell could see the anger in my eyes as I again told him that it was none of his business. I then excused myself with stating I had to go get some more iced tea. I was in the kitchen, and could see Andre working in the backyard through the window over the sink. I know I stared at him way too long. He was working hard moving barkchips, his shirt off, and sweating. Something primal stirred in me, as it had other times watching Andre, but I had always been able to suppress it, and let my racist upbringing take control. However, something about Andre today, and the questions Darnell had been asking, were making things harder for me to control.
As I was standing and staring out the window, I didn’t realize Darnell had come into the kitchen until he was extremely close behind me. He whispered in my ear, “you like watching my strong and virile black son, don’t you?” I tried to turn away from the window, but Darnell was right up against me now. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I tried to say. I felt Darnell’s hands on my waist, and shuddered. I tried to tell him not to touch me, but he just whispered in my ear some more. “I bet you imagine what that black boy looks like with no clothes on. You probably are wondering and imagining if all the rumors about black men are true.” “No…., “ I tried to say, but I couldn’t seem to form the words right. Darnell pressed up against me and I could feel his hard cock pressing against me. “You wonder what it would feel like to have a big n***** cock inside you, don’t you?”
I couldn’t do or say anything. I was transfixed watching Andre, with Darnell pressed up against me. Now, I couldn’t help but imagine what Andre might look like, and what sex with him might be like. I tried to clear my head. I was a married woman. Married to a PASTOR! I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts about anyone other than my husband, and especially not about some black man. But something broke in me that day. I couldn’t do anything besides stand and stare at Andre. And Darnell knew this as well. He reached around me, pulling my skirt up and sliding his hand between my legs. I squeezed my legs together but it was too late. “You are sopping wet!” Darnell exclaimed, laughing a bit. His touch had sent shivers through my body.
“Just keep watching my strong black son, and imagine what he might do to you,” Darnell said as he started to rub my pussy. I wanted to make him stop. I didn’t want a dirty black man touching me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than slightly spreading my legs for him. It wasn’t long until I felt him pull my underwear down my legs, and pull my skirt up around my waist. He told me again to keep watching Andre, and imagine what it would be like to be with him. Then, I felt a huge cock being pushed hard and quick all the way inside me. I had never felt anything like it. I screamed out in pleasure and pain, as he began to forcefully fuck me from behind. When I leaned my head down a bit, he pulled my hair, and yanked me back up, telling me to keep watching Andre.
He took me hard and rough, pulling my hair, spanking me, telling me how much of a dirty slut I was for enjoying his n***** cock so much. I came multiple times. As I watched Andre, with Darnell fucking me hard, he started making other comments that should have upset me, but for some reason turned me on even more. He started commenting on how Andre would breed me, forcing his black seed into me, and giving me a black baby. Part of me was disgusted and felt dirty from his comments, but part of me, the most primal part, was excited and wanted it. He was still pulling my hair back, making me watch Andre, as he came deep inside me. I came harder than I had ever cum in my life when he started filling my pussy. I couldn’t believe that my body was responding this way. I felt utterly fulfilled, but at the same time I felt absolutely betrayed by my body.
Darnell pulled out and got himself cleaned up, just a few minutes before Andre finally came into the house. I hurriedly rushed the two of them out the door, then went to my bathroom to cry and to clean myself up. When my husband got home later that evening, I didn’t tell him about anything that happened.
Andre showed up again a few days later to work on some plumbing issues. I couldn’t help but look at his body and wonder what it would be like to be with him. Again, I knew I shouldn’t be thinking these things, but after my experience with Darnell, being fucked in a way I had never been before, being told and called dirty things, and cumming harder than I ever had, I thought that I HAD to have Andre now. I had to follow my curiosity and find out what he was like.
After he finished the plumbing job, I invited him into the living room. We sat down and I started asking him about his life. Did he have a girlfriend? Not really, he told me. Did he like white girls at all? Yes. Did he think I was still pretty, even though I was so much older than him? Definitely. Given the chance, would he have his way with me? No response, but he looked at me for a few moments, then smiled. He stood up and walked over to me. “Have you ever seen a big black cock?” I shook my head, no. While I had ‘felt’ Darnell’s, I never actually saw it.
Andre pulled out his cock in front of me. He told me to touch it. I was mesmerized by how big it was, and it was only partially erect by this point. I touched and stroked his cock, feeling it pulsate and grow in my hand. Soon, he told me to put it in my mouth. Oral was something my husband and I had never done before, so I wasn’t very experienced at it. Andre didn’t seem to mind, as he grabbed my hair, and started fucking my mouth. I definitely wasn’t used to this taste, feeling, and experience. I started choking and coughing. He let up a moment, pulling out of my mouth, then ramming his cock back in. After a few moments he told me we should go to the bedroom. I obediently followed him.
He laid me back down on the bed, and crawled between my legs. He spread me wide and began to lick my pussy. It was an amazing feeling. I came multiple times before he stopped. Then, he moved up my body, until he was looking down on me. He kissed me roughly and passionately as he plunged his huge cock into me. After a few minutes, he pulled my legs up onto his shoulders and pushed even deeper into me. Finally, he pulled me to the edge of the bed, flipped me over, bent over the bed, and began to fuck me deep and hard from behind.
I was screaming by this point. Begging for him to fuck me. When he started to moan that he was close, I even begged him to put his black baby inside of me. He seemed to like this, and started fucking me as hard as he could. He went on like this for several minutes until he finally pushed deep into me, filling me with his cum. Once he was done, we heard Darnell honking outside to let Andre know he was there. Andre cleaned himself up, and left, leaving my lying there, still bent over the bed.
Over the next few weeks, we had sex every time he came over to the house, and all over the house. I couldn’t believe how amazing things were with him. Then it happened. I missed my period. I was pregnant, and it was almost definitely Darnell’s or Andre’s. They had done what I begged Andre to do. Now, I didn’t know what to do. I had been unfaithful to my husband, and he would divorce me if I had a black baby. On the other hand, I could go against my beliefs and have an abortion that would likely save my marriage if my husband never found out. But I just didn’t know what to do at this point. I have to decide which sin is worse, and which choice is best.
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