Alysin’s Black Affairs
The following is the result of an interview this author had with a white woman named Alysin Carter. Alysin loves black men. She was reluctant to talk about it publically until she gave me this interview. – Moozer.
Interviewer: You consented to give this interview on tape. I am going to turn on the recorder now. You are 37 years old. You have an 18-year-old daughter. You grew up in southeastern Virginia and attended the University of Virginia. After you graduated, you worked as a teacher in an inter-city high school. Your husband, David, is an accountant.
Now, I am going to let you tell your story.
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I have always been very careful about my long-term affairs with black men and especially Del. I like to think of it as a managed relationship. This is no common affair. Del is black and I am white.
“Going black” was not something I did on a whim. A black man did not sweep off my feet either. After all, I am a mother of an 18-year-old daughter. I had been studying my moves carefully. Black men seem so powerful and virile. I think it started as a curiosity. Then it turned into deep interest. Yes! That is the way it was. Now it is lust. Yes, it is deep lust. I admit that.
(Alysin paused to light up a cigarette.)
Interviewer: Describe yourself, Alysin.
I am not your ordinary white woman. I am five-feet, two-inches. I weigh 105 pounds. My blonde hair is long and natural, but I enhance the color. Black men tell me I am gorgeous! I love to show off my slender white legs and ankles in short skirts with hemlines 10 inches above my knees. Black men tell me that my full lips make me especially alluring.
(Alysin stood up and turned for me.)
Look at my ass. That is 35 inches and that makes my 22-inch waist seem narrower. What do you think?
(She opened her blouse and unhooked her lacy pink bra. She seemed very at ease about her body.)
Look at these tits. I love to hold my hands under them and lift them up then squeeze them together. My original 34C’s would have been small on a bigger woman, but on me, they were proportional to my body. Del wanted them enhanced. Therefore, they are 34DD’s now.
(Alysin dropped her clothing in a chair and sat down. She picked up her cigarette, crossed her legs and took a deep drag. She exhaled.)
Where was I? Oh, yes!
I think that black men had been watching me for years. At the prestigious college I attended, I would see them glaring at me. The boys at the high school where I taught English would hit on me.
One day I a young black thug in one of my classes caught me looking at the tattoo on his arm. The tattoo read, “Ever Had a Nigga?” I was embarrassed. From that day on, he hit on me every opportunity. Of course, I wanted to kiss him and let him use me, but that would have been professional suicide!
He had a white girlfriend, named Sheryl. I saw them everywhere kissing. Actually, it was more like sucking face.
Black men hit on me at the mall, too. Practically, everywhere I went black men hit on me. I think my alabaster white skin, hot body, and blonde hair were like a neon sign to black men.
(She uncrossed her legs slowly, revealing her hot pink thong. She was wearing a tight micro-mini skirt. She took a deep draw. Held it and then exhaled again.)
About the same time, my hubby, David, and I started watching porn. Our interest started drifting to interracial videos. We began discussing an interracial affair for me. He wanted to watch me. It was spontaneous. The idea of being a cuckold excited David, too. We watched many interracial videos back then. I accumulated a large number of interracial websites. I would masturbate, and he would jerk off. I tried personals on the website, but nothing brought the responses we expected.
I am very athletic. I work out. Somehow, in the back of my mind I thought that if my body was tight and buff, I would be successful at a hot affair. Therefore, I was and still am in great shape. I work out two hours a day. I have never told David that those workouts included Kegel exercises to tighten my pussy.
(She laughed and took a drag on her cigarette.)
My blackening – that is what I call it – started when I saw him standing there. He was smoking a cigarette and looking directly at me. I was walking toward him. I was wearing a very short denim miniskirt and strappy high heel sandals. I had a tight thin sweater that swooped low revealing the top of my tits. I could see his eyes literally feasting on my feet then moved up my legs. His eyes paused on my tits before stopping at my lips.
Oh! I wanted him to speak to me. I wanted that so bad!
He said, “Hi!” That one word started it.
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