First, let me introduce myself. My name is Karen Anderson and I’ve been told by many of the people who work with me I am quite attractive. I have shoulder length brunette hair, which nearly appears a dark auburn in the sunlight. At age 25, I have strived to keep my 35b- 24-35 shape tight and firm. Although my breasts are a tad on the small size, the constantly hard pencil size nipples set off their firmness. My eyes are a dark emerald and I use them to great advantage when I choose to flirt with the wimp like men that I work with.

I have been married for nearly five years to my husband, John. I am sure that somewhere along the line that I was attracted to John but his flabby stomach, uninspired sexual technique and his constant whining have worn very thin these last five years. His idea of an exciting night involves climbing on me in the missionary position and after six or eight thrusts with his undersized four inch white boy cock groaning real loud before he shoots off. Very seldom does he excite me and his inept lovemaking has me fantasizing about hidden erotic daydreams of my earlier years. Additionally, he begs me to dominate him during his lovemaking attempts. Little does he know that my deepest cravings involve being dominated; not by a white boy wimp such as he but by a brutal black master. During my college years I was totally fascinated by my pretty white college roommates who became hooked on black sexing. At the large Midwestern College, which I attended, the mostly black football team, kept there shaven white pussies full of hard black cock. Although my religious background never allowed me to enjoy the pleasures of my roommates, I dropped off to sleep nearly every night fingering my swollen pussy until I reach climax thinking of hard black cocks buried in my sloppy wet pussyhole.

On more than one occasion I nearly fainted when I found myself alone in a classroom with one or more muscular black men. Shyly I always made my way back to my dorm room where I dropped my black lace panties and frigged myself to climax.

During the spring quarter of my senior year, I starting dating John, as on the surface he appeared a great catch. Although he is rather short, he was good company and had a great future as an architect. Although my fingers got me through many a cold night, I was still “nearly” a virgin when John and I first started making love. Even from the first fumbled seduction, I always felt something was missing; what was missing was another eight inches of cock on John’s pathetically short and useless four inch white cock. Although I am sure he felt he was a masterful lover, his total foolish lovemaking techniques made me even more longing for the “real” thing.

Although our lovemaking continued to evaporate with each unfulfilling sex session, our financial situation seemed to surge forward in the first years of our marriage. With both of our extraordinary good salaries; mine as a media consultant with a fortune five hundred company and his as a Jr. Architect with one of the leading firms in Chicago we were able to (nearly) afford a new home in one of the northwest suburbs.

As good as the story book young couple looked to those outside our marriage, it suddenly came crashing down. One of the buildings that John designed for the Chicago Housing Authority collapsed and killed three black people. The firm’s senior management quickly decided that the best solution to minimize the fallout was to ax John (and his career).

During the next three months, our rather substantial savings account was nearly depleted, trying to continue to make the huge mortgage payments on our beautiful ranch style house. During this period of time, John’s ability to perform sexually became even more degraded and his undersized white cock lost it’s ability to even harden itself. The stress of making the salary; and soothing his shattered self esteem made it even more difficult on me.

My thoughts seemed to dwell more and more on my college days when I fantasized about some hard black buck skewering me; his little white tramp on the end of his powerful black pole. The erotic daydreams degenerated even further with each one, as the black bucks became more and more dominating in their carnal desires.

The daydreams and erotic escapes became even more vivid when a middle aged black couple with a teen age son moved into the palatial home next to ours in Wilmette. When they arrived John ranted and raved that they should not be allowed to move into “our” neighborhood; but should stay “where they belonged”. Since he had no job he traveled throughout the neighborhood where he passed out petitions and attempted to cause as many problem for the black family as possible. Unfortunately (as it turned out) their were many of rich white neighbors who were in full agreement to John’s racist ideas.

After returning home on one dark and cold October Friday evening, I heard the doorbell. Since John was out making his rounds, I wearily dragged my overworked and exhausted body to the door and swung it open. As the door opened, my eyes focused on the largest black man that I had ever seen. Although I am five foot ten inches tall, I was only looking at his tight flat stomach. My eyes slowly traveled up the large muscular body until I reached his forbidding brown eyes. It was only thirty five degrees out and he was only wearing a pair of tight jogging shorts and purple cut off sleeveless sweatshirt that covered only his massive pectorals.

I started trembling, as I stared at the handsome black face that was contorted in anger. At first I thought my trembling was caused by the cold draft that shot throughout our home when the door was open, but my mind quickly focused on the realization that my trembling was due to the overpowering huge muscular black man standing two feet away with a vicious scowl covering his face.

“Are you responsible for this chicken shit petition you little bitch?” he angrily screamed.

Meekly looking at the crumpled up paper that he held in his huge hand I mumbled a terrified sob, “No . . . .. my husband John. . . . . . . . “. I was unable to finish the sentence and let my eyes drop to the floor; unable to look into his stern and unyielding face.

“Little white tramps should not let there spineless husbands put out such crap. Tell your husband I expect him to come over and explain this petition to me when he slithers home. Got that bitch?” he commanded.

Still unable to look into the enraged face of the dominant black giant, I meekly muttered, “I’ll tell John when he comes home that you want to see him”.

The black turned and walked the short distance to his home next door. I stood, watching the muscular black as he effortlessly sauntered to his beautiful home. My nipples had grown erect and pushed against my white silk blouse unencumbered with any bra to restrain them. My right hand slid down the front of my dark blue skirt and skimmed my swollen pussy lips. I could feel the moisture that had formed in the crotch of my black lace panties. The dominating black stud had awakened a sexual tension that spread throughout my body. I felt electrified throughout my tight body just thinking about the few brief minutes the black man had commanded my complete attention. Slowly, I shut the large oak door and absently walked to the white leather coach where I slid down on the soft cushions. My hands instinctively dropped to the outside of my womanhood and I started to stroke the swollen and wet lips, when my husband barged through the front door.

He was cold and he instantly walked to where I was seated and soaked in the soft warm glow emitting from our brick fireplace. He seemed smug and confident about his latest neighborhood journey.

Smiling, I merely stated, “Your black neighbor wants you to come over to his house and explain to him your petition John”.

John’s heretofore smugness seeped from his ashen and concerned face, as his mind registered what I had just told him. He quickly looked at the front door and I could sense that he had hoped that it had automatically locked. It was he, that now started to tremble and shake. He had seen the physique of our new black neighbor and it finally registered on his overwrought mind, that he would not fare well with a confrontation with the mysterious black neighbors.

“I don’t feel well. . . . . . . . I think I will retire for the evening,” he managed to utter, as he quickly left the room.

The contempt that I felt for my meek and humbled husband hit a new low, as I watched him cower from the living room. As he turned and left, I let my fingers resume their journey to my swollen and aroused pussy, which needed some immediate attention. As the fire warmed my body, my fingers warmed my aching pussy. I am not sure if John heard my screech, as I had the most fulfilling climax since the day of our marriage.

The next morning I awoke and felt a strange premonition filling our bedroom. As I dressed, I remembered the strange and dark man who aroused a deep passionate undercurrent. His dominant manner and forceful take charge attitude; and the complete terror that he evoked in my still fearful husband. Uncharacteristically, I slipped on a small garter belt and snapped my thigh high silky black hose. I pulled on a pair of tight black lace panties and chose to forego my bra. As I pulled on a white silk blouse, my thoughts returned to the last evening. Looking through my closet, I chose to wear a short black mini skirt. Although it was a little too tight and had a six inch slit up one side I felt daring; felt a tinge that I couldn’t explain. To complete the outfit I pulled on a tight black suit jacket. As I left the bedroom, I pulled on a pair of black patent leather pumps with four inch heels.

When I got to the kitchen, my husband John, was anxiously looking out the window with the shades drawn. He was unshaven and very nervous. He had not slept all night. As I poured myself a cup of coffee, the phone rang. I waited for John to get it, but he just stood by the window and very perturbed; I finally reached for the phone. A dull drab voice on the other end stated firmly, ” Mrs. Anderson you are now three payments behind on your 280 ZX and unless payment in full is received by next Tuesday we will pick up your car.”

Caught off guard I absently mumbled, “But I need our car to get to work”.

“Well maybe the car needs to belong to someone who has the ability to pay for it. NEXT TUESDAY,” came the swift and unforgiving voice on the other end of the line.

As I put the phone back in the cradle, I felt that the whole world was closing in on me. Disgustedly, I turned and walked out the door without acknowledging my husband, huddled by the window facing our newest neighbors.

As I arrived at my office, I sensed the stifling dread that had quickly went through the office. Our company had been acquired two hours earlier and a facilitator had been dispatched to our office. Of the nineteen members of my section, only three would still have their job by five P.M. The panic that had spread throughout the office, had lowered the morale to near zero. My thoughts swiftly reviewed my dire financial straits and I looked around the office wondering who would be the three members, that would retain their job.

At exactly 10:00AM, a messenger was dispatched ordering the entire department to report to a small office and reception area at the end of the hall. The facilitator had been given the authority to conduct the exit interviews and reward the lucky three survivors with a new six month contract.

Dejectedly we all walked the short distance to the drab office at the end of the hall. When we all arrived we found that the reception area was void of all chairs. As we stood looking at each other, the receptionist started calling out the names in reverse alphabetic order. Each of us looked into the shattered faces, as our colleagues emerged broken from the small dark office. A petite redhead was the first to emerge from the inner sanctum, that had a smile on her face and we all knew, instinctively, that she was one of the three to survive the slaughter. Although, she looked a little rumpled and her make up was smeared, I think I was the only one who picked up on the small signs.

Since my last name was Anderson, I was next to the last person who entered the office. By the time that I entered that dark chamber of gloom, another pretty girl had been selected to remain. A blonde slutty looking receptionist, passed me in the door. I asked if she was one of the lucky ones and she softly muttered that she would be informed later in the evening. Her unsettled eyes told me that there was a deep forbidding in the chamber that I was just now entering.

Anxious, and terrified about the loss of the only income that my husband and I currently had, I meekly walked into the dark office with my head hung low. I had been standing for nearly two hours and my legs and back ached from the nervous ordeal. When I was standing in front of the metal desk, with the chipped and broken top, I looked at the huge man sitting behind the desk; a huge black man. As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I nearly fainted as I recognized the angry black face as that of my new neighbor.

Feeling faint as a result of the terrifying ordeal today and with the image of the angry black neighbor etched in my mind I softly asked, “May I sit down please ?”

Looking up from the files stacked deep on his desk, he simply stated, “No, you may not.” He then looked into my tired and worried eyes and started reviewing the files in front of him. “It appears that you and your husband are in dire financial situation Mrs. Anderson. Your home mortgage is two months in arrears; your car is scheduled to be repossessed next Tuesday and all three of your credit cards are maxxed out. Now, did I miss anything ?”

As the huge black facilitator reviewed the pending disaster in mine and John’s life, I started shivering. “No, I guess you pretty well have it all down,” I stated.

“Do you want to retain your $48,000 job Mrs. Anderson?” came the simple question.

All I could do was softly mutter, “Yes”.

The tension filled the room. Derek Washington, let a small smile cover his ruggedly handsome face. He and I was very much aware of the power that he held in his hands. My knees started shaking and I felt dizzy.

“Well Mrs. Anderson, as the proverbial saying goes it appears that your little white ass is mine. Take off your coat; and then unbutton your blouse. I want to see those perky little nipples of yours,” came the direct order.

My eyes downcast, I started to mutter “Please . . . . . . . “, but it faded away. I knew I had no choice but to submit to Derek Washington’s command. As I unbuttoned the blouse, I became aware of another sensation; the sensation of deep arousal in my loins. Moisture coated my black lace panties and my nipples hardened. I pulled the tails from my miniskirt and opened the two halves so the man who held my destiny could see my pretty breasts. As I looked into his dark eyes I could tell that he enjoyed the beauty; and the dominance that he now had over me.

“Take it off,” came the simple command.

I let the silk drop to the floor and I stood before him with my small but firm breasts in full view. A sense of consuming arousal was smoldering in my tight firm body as my nipples hardened. At first I cupped my breasts with my hands but I slowly let them drop and I could sense a look of admiration from his intense stare.

“When was the last time you made love to a man ?” Derek questioned.

Standing before the seated black stallion I started to provide the answer, “My husband and I . . . . . . . ”

He abruptly stopped me before I could finish. “I didn’t ask you when you made love to your husband; I asked you when you made love to a REAL MAN ?”

I could not answer him. Even on the best of nights I did not consider my husband a good lover. I meekly stood before him with my hard nipples pointing towards my tormentor.

“How big is your husband’s cock Mrs. Anderson?” came the next question.

Embarrassed, I meekly answered, “His cock is nearly five inches long. . . . . . when he can get hard.” I do not know why I added the last statement. I didn’t have to degrade my husband. . . . . . but he hadn’t satisfied my needs for months; if not years.

“When was the last time you had a black man pleasure you Mrs. Anderson?” came the next question. Derek Washington seemed to mock me emphasizing the “Mrs.” in his questions. Here I was, a white wife standing with my breasts bare and my pussy lips twitching before him and his contemptible questions.

“There was only one time; I was only thirteen and a black man tried to rape me,” I answered.

“Did he enter you?” Derek responded.

Head down, I humbly answered, “No, he didn’t put his cock in me. He jacked himself off on my legs and stomach.”

“Good; I want a virgin hole,” he stated matter of factly.

As I meekly stood before my inquisitor the intercom beeped and the receptionist interrupted my interrogation; “Mr. Washington, your son is waiting to see you.”

Desperately I looked around for my missing blouse and instinctively cupped my breasts.

“Have him come in,” Derek simply answered.

He smiled at my sense of shock and embarrassment. A tall muscular black man who looked about seventeen, entered the door and casually walked past me and sat in the only other chair in the room. Amusedly, he looked up at my startled face; and my small hands trying to hide my breasts from his view.

“Put your hands down Mrs. Anderson. My son can surely see your pretty tits, since he is here to fuck you,” he stated casually as a large sneer covered his face.

The simple sentence bore into my distraught mind as I let my arms slide to my side. Having two black men; a father and son stare intently at my exposed breasts made my pussy leak more sticky discharge into the already soaked black lace panties.

“Give my son a kiss Mrs. Anderson. I want you to make him feel the tongue. Do you understand?” ordered the black father.

I turned and hesitantly put my hands on the armrests of the chair as I leaned forward and let my tongue probe the son’s thick black lips. He parted his lips and allowed my tongue to probe his oral cavity. As I wantonly let my tongue duel with his tongue I felt his finger tips brush against my hard nipples. He grasped the sensitive nipples between his finger and thumb and applied an ever increasing pressure bringing a soft sob from my lips. I let my tight body undulate above the seated black boy.

As each of his hands massaged a hard nipple I could feel his feet gently push against my feet forcing my legs to open. The tight miniskirt was stretched to the limit as his feet pressed against the insides of my soles and the skirt rose on my over heated thighs. Our tongues continued dueling as my pussyhole started to throb.

I could feel the moisture continue to build in the crotch of my black lace panties. Just as the carnal passion nearly overtook my overheated and throbbing body, I felt the young black boy’s hands leave my distended nipples and cup the outside of my reddened breasts. My passion was about to overwhelm me. Mentally, I begged for the boys long thin fingers to continue their passage along my lean and tight sides and I closed my eyes as he must have read my mind. The long fingers slowly; so very slowly; slid down my sweat soaked body and rested on the hem of the tight mini skirt. I writhed uncontrollably; desperately trying to tempt the young boy to remove the obstruction, so that his fingers could play with my throbbing pussy hole.

As I swayed seductively over his seated body, our tongues continued to probe the other’s oral cavity; neither gaining a distinctive advantage. I nearly fainted as I felt his long hot fingers play with the button on the side. I adjusted my swaying in order to give him greater access to my skirt fastenings; giving my married body to his inquisitive fingers. I could not stand his teasing. As I wantonly tried to seduce this black boy, with his father seated behind his desk in back of us, smirking while my body flew out of control.

His fingers finally at long last slid the button out of the tight hole and the skirt slid apart. Opening my eyes and looking into his deep sweat streaked face I begged, “Please . . . . . . . . .” I am not sure what specifically I was begging for. . . . . or was I ?

His left hand slid down the inside of my left thigh and rubbed in a small circular pattern where the top of my hose and my warm thigh flesh merge. “Oh, my GOD. Please. . . Please!!!!”

The black boy said nothing but continued to gently rub the inside of my thighs; each circular pattern rising a fraction of inch. As I continued to sensuously sway above the black boy; attempting with all my ability to rub myself against, what had to be his hard black cock, I always came just a millimeter short. I then felt his right hand grasp the tab of the zipper on my skirt and sensuously slide it down my quivering legs.

At nearly the same instant his index finger found my throbbing clit and he gently caressed the hardened orb, which nearly brought me to a screaming climax. As I thrust my pussy against the digit I begged him again, “Please fuck me. . . . . . . . .,” I mournfully whimpered.

Just as the words dripped from my lips I heard Derek Washington, Jerome’s Father stand up and sternly ordered; “Get off my son you little whore. He’s only a teenage boy; YOU DON’T WANT ME TO HAVE YOU CHARGED WITH STATUTORY RAPE DO YOU. NOW GET OFF MY SON.”

I frantically looked back over my right shoulder, begging with eyes to reverse the stern command. All I could see was Derek Washington’s stern and angry face.

“You better obey my father Mrs. Anderson. You don’t look like a lady that would fare very well in prison for statutory raping an innocent teen age boy,” the son sneered.

As I awkwardly tried to lift myself off the chair, I felt all my energy instantly drain from my tired and overwrought body. I had come within a finger touch of the most intense orgasm of my life and now it was but a distant memory.

As I turned to face Derek Washington; my new boss if I still had a job, I absently grasped my unbuttoned and unzipped skirt and pulled it around my tight and firm stomach. I then stood before the most immediately important person in my shattered life with my breasts bare; and my nipples harden to a point; and my panties so soaked with my own juices that they were literally running down the inside of my legs. My makeup was smeared and my body was trembling from the near orgasm that was denied me.

“Mrs. Anderson; tomorrow I expect that you and your worthless husband to host a reception for myself; my wife Raven; and my son, who of course you have just met. If you don’t remember he is the one that just fingered your little clit,” he mocked. Derek continued by stating, “You will invite the three other white couples who signed your husband’s petition. He will wear a tuxedo and be the server for the invited guests. You, Mrs. Anderson will wear a slut outfit of your choosing. If you select an inappropriate wardrobe, I will spank you in front of the invited guests.”

“Do you have any questions Mrs. Anderson?” he concluded.

My mind was swirling; I could not comprehend anything that has happened this terrible morning. I could not understand the intense sexual transformation that a black boy of only seventeen had taken me. As the intense thoughts bombarded my overworked and jumbled mind, I finally thought of one question of utmost importance. “Do I still have my job Mr. Washington?”

His unfeeling eyes stared at me and he spoke very softly, “The job is between you and Miss Thornber. You have the advantage; you will be given the opportunity to gain the upper hand tomorrow night.”

My immediate superior then dropped his head and started putting my file back together. I sensed that this meeting was over and I quietly reached for my blouse and quickly put pulled it on. I buttoned the front as I headed for the door. As I reached for the handle Mr. Washington again spoke; “Leave your panties with my son Mrs. Anderson”.

Shocked at the request but without any alternative, I turned and pulled my skirt up. Reaching for the hem line, I pulled the soaked panties over my hose and high heels. Once the fragrant panties were free, I walked the short distance and humiliated, handed the garment to the smiling black boy. He immediately shifted the panties to his face, where he inhaled deeply of the wet and fragrant black lace panties. “See you tomorrow night Mrs. Anderson. I think I will enjoy being your neighbor,” he smugly stated.

His arrogance brought another spark to my pussy, but I resisted the urge to pounce on the young black boy, with his huge organ thrusting against the front of his jeans.

Ashamed, I turned and hurriedly made my exit. As I entered the outer office, I could see the remaining workers stare at my disheveled appearance. As I walked down the long hallway, my mind tried to comprehend the journey that I had just embarked on.

How was I going to tell John; but more important could I wait until tomorrow evening for the promised black cock of the arrogant seventeen year old son of my new Black Master?