comments_readers: Author's note: I wanted to try an interracial story, and one set in a somewhat dystopian future in which the 'best intentions' of well-meaning people to solve a problem perhaps more imagined than actual, results in a completely unreasonable solution for some. In this case, a white family whose freedoms have been eroded. I am not particularly trying to make a political point here, but imagining a society where laudable ideas might outweigh common-sense. It happens.
I don't know if this story is worth continuing; maybe at some point in the future I will get some sort of response to say a second chapter would be interesting. We will see.
Rob Jones peeped in to the main bedroom through a small crack in the door. He shouldn't have done if truth were known: a lot of Men don't like to be seen with a white woman, not when they are screwing her.
But Holly, Rob and Kelly's daughter, was crying downstairs for her mom and Rob went quietly upstairs to pretend to have a word with mommy to at least calm the seven year old girl. He would hate for the Man fucking his wife to get upset by any distractions, even a noise from downstairs.
It was weird, seeing a Man on top of his wife, and Rob felt bad that it excited him still. Seeing Kelly face down on the bed, legs wide apart and the black Man on top of her. He wasn't one of the muscular Men who would stop by to fuck Kelly: this was thin and wiry with a touch of gray in his neat, black hair. His thin hips were moving up and down and Rob guessed he was fucking Kelly's asshole.
Well, he was a Man and Men could do anything. Not a place Kelly ever invited her husband to go; Rob could only imagine what it was like, doing that. But then he had difficulty imagining sex at all these days. Was it just his luck or were Men getting more demanding and restrictive about allowing husbands Cunt access?
Kelly was moaning a little, but that may have been the Man's hand in her hair as much as the Man's long, hard cock in her. He was pulling Kelly's pale blonde hair (how Men loved really light colored hair on their Cunts) as he fucked her and had his eyes closed. Good job he did: if he he saw Rob peeking in out of the corner of his eye he might call the Equality police. Claim he was not being given a fair chance.
Rob had heard how tough it was in a jail for men like him who spoiled a Man's fun. Better to stay on the right side of the Law, really.
It was weird though, seeing that black figure on the white body of his wife. Black on white, as it should be of course. How it was in probably millions of homes. A white woman - a properly named Cunt - being fucked by a real Man. Rob thought of his own mother and as a kid seeing her being had in a position much like this Man was on top of Kelly. But that Man had been a fat, lazy person who was making, Rob recalled, very little effort and demanding the struggling white woman to wriggle as best she could under his great weight.
Poor mom, Rob thought. How she had been accused of not trying to please the Man and had to go off to the Re-Education Center, to learn how to please Men in every way. Six months in chains, being fucked every day and night. Poor dad and me, sat at home wondering if she was okay, and unable to believe how tired and worn out she was when she got home eventually.
Well, Kelly was doing okay. She was, Rob could see, doing the Cunt bit perfectly. She was saying something about it being the best fuck she had ever had. That always pleased Men. Made for less trouble if they heard that.
As much as Rob wanted to see more, the man slipped away from the door. His cock was hard, even seeing that little bit of action and he wanted to whack off. but Holly was downstairs (and he didn't want her coming up to see what was happening) and if for some reason the Man later checked Rob to see if he's made a mess in his pants he'd be angry at any staining. Regrettably Rob tried to take his mind off the subject and the sound of the bed creaking a little behind him. Best not to make yourself cum while a Man was using your wife.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Tuesday, August 11, 2009