The exhilaration he was feeling was addictive; just as addictive (though he no longer cared) as the images he loved watching of huge, well-endowed bla...k men, fucking gorgeous white women (women he knew he'd never have, and partly didn't want).As he quietly sat there, his hand lightly, almost teasingly, stroking his straining cock, there again was that fascinating eroticism he felt at the very thought that his seed, his Caucasian seed, would never create a baby; not in one of thosebeautiful. . Then he slid his hands forward and reached back under my chest, pulling me upright onto my knees, his cock still buried up inside me. I watched his forearms cross over my chest and his fingers pinch my nipples again. I saw in the mirror as my whole body jerked upward and forward with each thrust of his cock into me."That's it whiteboy. Take my big black dick up your tight little hole. Look at yourself! Look at you in the mirror, mounted by another man, taking cock up the ass and your own cock. ” She asked the question I was afraid of. “Have you seen a black penis?” “Honey,” I said, “to be truthful, yes, I have.” She hit me with the zinger, “How did it feel?” My mouth dropped open. “Well,” I said, “it was bigger and better than your dad.” “Oh, mommy, did you cheat on dad?”, she asked. “No sweetheart,” I was truthful and said, “it wasn’t long ago when I experienced a black man. When your father and I were married, I was faithful to him, I never cheated.” Susan smiled and. Unfortunately, it stuck all the way to his second cigarette. I sighed and said, “Let’s go inside.” Again, he made a little smirk. A hot smirk, though. “I’m cold,” I said by way of explanation. He just pulled out his key and walked inside while I followed. Our discussion continued into his studio, where I sat on his bed and he sat at his desk, as per usual. He fiddled with his phone, finding music to play while we talked (that should have been my hint he knew what I was here for). Finally, the.