Chapter 2 -- Confusion
I had ten days between my discovery of the tapes and brochures and my parents' return. I slept in fits and starts that night, waking almost on the hour, my hand between my legs. The next morning I made breakfast...some strong coffee and a toast, then put on my bikini, my tiniest one, and headed out for the pool. I tried to read but again my hand slipped under the bikini front and I could never concentrate. I kept thinking about the tapes... so finally I gave in and went back to the VCR. When I first looked at the tapes I had concentrated, naturally I think, on my mother's activities. This time I paid attention to the three other women, noticing that they behaved much like Mom. They didn't just put a cock in their mouths, like I had done when I briefly tried to give head to my prom date Jeremy last May, my only attempt at oral sex. Instead they treated the man's cock and balls as something to be adored, worshiped. It was as if the black men were gods and the women were their servants, their slaves, awaiting the god's pleasure, pleasing the god, serving him... Him. They washed his gentials with their tongues, they cupped the man's black balls in their white hands as though they were holding holy objects. I even saw one woman licking a man's ass, something I could never have imagined that people did... he was bending forward at the waist, holding his ass cheeks apart, and she was licking all up and down as the video camera caught all the action. In a few cases the black man came in the woman's mouth and I could see her swallow every drop as spurt after spurt of semen flooded her mouth. In another case the man began ejaculating and when he did he pulled out of her mouth to shoot his seed on her face and breasts, and it turned me on to see her gather up the gobs with her hand and lick them off. The black man's semen, I realized, was the ultimate object of respect for these white women. I watched the tape, rewinding parts, looking now at my Mom not as my mother but as a woman serving her god. It was beautiful to see, but it all filled me with tremendous confusion as I tried to make sense of it. It was especially confusing to see the white men, my step-father among them, who would briefly appear on camera to remake a bed or to look more closely at what was happening on the beds. In one scene, where my mother was kneeling and sucking a black man's long cock, Mike stood next to her, smiling, his hand on the back of her head as if to guide her in her back and forth movements. Here was his wife sucking another man's cock, a black man's cock, and what I saw on his face was pleasure and pride, as if this black man was entitled to the mouth and pussy of this very pretty white woman kneeling in front of him, and the husband's job was to make it happen, to facilitate the black man taking what was rightfully his, the white man's wife.
I was still unsure what "breeding" had to do with what was going on on the screen so around noon I sat down at my computer and did some web searches. I first tried "breeding" but most of the results referred to animals, to people who had bulls to rent out, or stud horses. So then I typed "black men breeding white women" and the sites that came up were the ones I was looking for. Some, like the Mandingo Clubs, were very explicit in their purpose... to impregnate as many white females as possible with black babies. One site compared the breeding that white male slave owners had done with their female black slaves to the modern-day breeding of white women by black men. In most cases the messages that I read, and the descriptions, were explicit and cleared up a lot of questions. I soon came to realize that the practice of black breeding of white women was wide-spread and organized. Women and their husbands, boyfriends and partners applied to attend breeding parties whose sole purpose was to make the white woman pregnant. On a couple of sites were instructions for women on how to monitor her cycle to determine periods of optimum fertility. There were charts that women were supposed to keep at least three months prior to attending a breeding party on which she would note the last day of her period, how many days until her temperature went up to indicate ovulation, and how long ovulation lasted. Anoher piece of information that cleared up some confusion was that the woman was always bred by several men, so that she would not know which one exactly was the father, whose black sperm had finally fertilized her white egg.
After reading several of these sites, I needed some fresh air, my body was tingling with what I had learned. I jumped into the pool, swam about fifty laps, then got out and showered. I don't know exactly when it was during all those activities that I decided what I would do next, but when I got out of the shower I went to my closet and started to choose some sexy clothes that would accentuate my body. I laid out on the bed a very short skirt that showed off my very nice legs, and very tight t-shirt, then chose some low-cut bikini panties. I debated about wearing a bra, then said "the hell with it". I went to dry my hair and while standing in front of my mirror I saw my pubic patch of hair... not a lot of hair, but I decided to trim it and clip off some of the longer hairs. My pubic hair is not tight and curly but kind of long and wispy, and its golden color leaves no doubt that I am a natural blonde. I was preparingmyself for someone but I didn't yet know who that someone was. I felt this more and more as I dabbed some perfume under my breasts and on the insides of my thighs, and just a whiff on my neck and behind my ears.
I dressed slowly... the panties that barely covered my mound and hair, then thigh high stockings, the tight and rather sheer tee that lifts and frames my breasts and shows off my nipples, flat shoes since I might be walking a little, a gold necklace and bracelet. I grabbed my keys and purse, and then laughed as I realized I didn't yet know where I was going. It was late-afternoon, so I decided to head downtown where there were always large crowds during the day. I didn't exactly verbalize it to myself, but I also wanted to go where I knew that there were large crowds of black men. I parked in a big garage and walked over to the square in the middle of which stands a large and not very pretty statue. There are cafes around the square and outdoor tables, and I sat at one of them, holding in my hands a magazine I had just bought. I ordered a cappuchino, opened the magazine, then glanced around. At a table not too far away I noticed a man, a black man, reading the paper and drinking a soda. He was nice looking, not extrordinarily handsome, but he had beautiful African features...hair, nose, mouth,and dark brown skin. I especially noticed his hands... they looked huge, his fingers so long, the palms a lighter color that the back. He was maybe in his early 30s, it was hard for me to tell. At one point he looked up from his paper and saw me looking at him, and he smiled. I quickly lowered my eyes to my magazine but when I looked up a few seconds later he was still staring at me, a small smile on his face. I looked down immediately, then back up. I don't know how I got the courage to do what I did next, but I held his eyes in mine and smiled back. He stood up, walked over to me and said "Mind if I sit down?". I said "ok" and he did. "I'm Anthony... Tony," he said. I answered "I'm Jennifer".We made small talk for a few minutes... discussed the weather, my magazine, all the people downtown. He must have had a job in that area because he was wearing a jacket and tie, a blue shirt, gray pants. He looked at me and said, "Listen, don't be mad, but how old are you?" "18," I said, "I'm going to be a sophmore at the university." "Cool," he answered. We talked for more than an hour and I had to keep being careful not to slip in what I said and reveal that I was in high school and still 16. He told me about his hometown in the northern part of the state, the scholarship he had to go to college, and his job. I excused myself at one point to go to the restroom and as I walked back I could see him, very obviously and without trying to hide it, checking me out... my legs, breasts, hips, and I imagined that when I walked into the cafe to go to the ladies room he had also checked out my butt. This time I sat sideways to the table, and crossed my legs so about two-thirds of my thigh was showing. At age 16 it's hard to know what to do because you lack experience, but in my still naive way I was trying to show him that I was offering myself to him.
Finally he said, "Listen, I would love to get something to eat, and there's a cajun restaurant near where I live, a couple of blocks from here. Will you join me?." "Yes," I answered in a second. Anthony said, "I'd like to change out of these clothes... come with me to my place, we'll grab a glass of wine of something and I'll change." "Sure," I said, "and I hope it's not too fancy, I'm not very elegant here." "No, it's not fancy, and you look so fine." I think I finally blushed.
I had ten days between my discovery of the tapes and brochures and my parents' return. I slept in fits and starts that night, waking almost on the hour, my hand between my legs. The next morning I made breakfast...some strong coffee and a toast, then put on my bikini, my tiniest one, and headed out for the pool. I tried to read but again my hand slipped under the bikini front and I could never concentrate. I kept thinking about the tapes... so finally I gave in and went back to the VCR. When I first looked at the tapes I had concentrated, naturally I think, on my mother's activities. This time I paid attention to the three other women, noticing that they behaved much like Mom. They didn't just put a cock in their mouths, like I had done when I briefly tried to give head to my prom date Jeremy last May, my only attempt at oral sex. Instead they treated the man's cock and balls as something to be adored, worshiped. It was as if the black men were gods and the women were their servants, their slaves, awaiting the god's pleasure, pleasing the god, serving him... Him. They washed his gentials with their tongues, they cupped the man's black balls in their white hands as though they were holding holy objects. I even saw one woman licking a man's ass, something I could never have imagined that people did... he was bending forward at the waist, holding his ass cheeks apart, and she was licking all up and down as the video camera caught all the action. In a few cases the black man came in the woman's mouth and I could see her swallow every drop as spurt after spurt of semen flooded her mouth. In another case the man began ejaculating and when he did he pulled out of her mouth to shoot his seed on her face and breasts, and it turned me on to see her gather up the gobs with her hand and lick them off. The black man's semen, I realized, was the ultimate object of respect for these white women. I watched the tape, rewinding parts, looking now at my Mom not as my mother but as a woman serving her god. It was beautiful to see, but it all filled me with tremendous confusion as I tried to make sense of it. It was especially confusing to see the white men, my step-father among them, who would briefly appear on camera to remake a bed or to look more closely at what was happening on the beds. In one scene, where my mother was kneeling and sucking a black man's long cock, Mike stood next to her, smiling, his hand on the back of her head as if to guide her in her back and forth movements. Here was his wife sucking another man's cock, a black man's cock, and what I saw on his face was pleasure and pride, as if this black man was entitled to the mouth and pussy of this very pretty white woman kneeling in front of him, and the husband's job was to make it happen, to facilitate the black man taking what was rightfully his, the white man's wife.
I was still unsure what "breeding" had to do with what was going on on the screen so around noon I sat down at my computer and did some web searches. I first tried "breeding" but most of the results referred to animals, to people who had bulls to rent out, or stud horses. So then I typed "black men breeding white women" and the sites that came up were the ones I was looking for. Some, like the Mandingo Clubs, were very explicit in their purpose... to impregnate as many white females as possible with black babies. One site compared the breeding that white male slave owners had done with their female black slaves to the modern-day breeding of white women by black men. In most cases the messages that I read, and the descriptions, were explicit and cleared up a lot of questions. I soon came to realize that the practice of black breeding of white women was wide-spread and organized. Women and their husbands, boyfriends and partners applied to attend breeding parties whose sole purpose was to make the white woman pregnant. On a couple of sites were instructions for women on how to monitor her cycle to determine periods of optimum fertility. There were charts that women were supposed to keep at least three months prior to attending a breeding party on which she would note the last day of her period, how many days until her temperature went up to indicate ovulation, and how long ovulation lasted. Anoher piece of information that cleared up some confusion was that the woman was always bred by several men, so that she would not know which one exactly was the father, whose black sperm had finally fertilized her white egg.
After reading several of these sites, I needed some fresh air, my body was tingling with what I had learned. I jumped into the pool, swam about fifty laps, then got out and showered. I don't know exactly when it was during all those activities that I decided what I would do next, but when I got out of the shower I went to my closet and started to choose some sexy clothes that would accentuate my body. I laid out on the bed a very short skirt that showed off my very nice legs, and very tight t-shirt, then chose some low-cut bikini panties. I debated about wearing a bra, then said "the hell with it". I went to dry my hair and while standing in front of my mirror I saw my pubic patch of hair... not a lot of hair, but I decided to trim it and clip off some of the longer hairs. My pubic hair is not tight and curly but kind of long and wispy, and its golden color leaves no doubt that I am a natural blonde. I was preparingmyself for someone but I didn't yet know who that someone was. I felt this more and more as I dabbed some perfume under my breasts and on the insides of my thighs, and just a whiff on my neck and behind my ears.
I dressed slowly... the panties that barely covered my mound and hair, then thigh high stockings, the tight and rather sheer tee that lifts and frames my breasts and shows off my nipples, flat shoes since I might be walking a little, a gold necklace and bracelet. I grabbed my keys and purse, and then laughed as I realized I didn't yet know where I was going. It was late-afternoon, so I decided to head downtown where there were always large crowds during the day. I didn't exactly verbalize it to myself, but I also wanted to go where I knew that there were large crowds of black men. I parked in a big garage and walked over to the square in the middle of which stands a large and not very pretty statue. There are cafes around the square and outdoor tables, and I sat at one of them, holding in my hands a magazine I had just bought. I ordered a cappuchino, opened the magazine, then glanced around. At a table not too far away I noticed a man, a black man, reading the paper and drinking a soda. He was nice looking, not extrordinarily handsome, but he had beautiful African features...hair, nose, mouth,and dark brown skin. I especially noticed his hands... they looked huge, his fingers so long, the palms a lighter color that the back. He was maybe in his early 30s, it was hard for me to tell. At one point he looked up from his paper and saw me looking at him, and he smiled. I quickly lowered my eyes to my magazine but when I looked up a few seconds later he was still staring at me, a small smile on his face. I looked down immediately, then back up. I don't know how I got the courage to do what I did next, but I held his eyes in mine and smiled back. He stood up, walked over to me and said "Mind if I sit down?". I said "ok" and he did. "I'm Anthony... Tony," he said. I answered "I'm Jennifer".We made small talk for a few minutes... discussed the weather, my magazine, all the people downtown. He must have had a job in that area because he was wearing a jacket and tie, a blue shirt, gray pants. He looked at me and said, "Listen, don't be mad, but how old are you?" "18," I said, "I'm going to be a sophmore at the university." "Cool," he answered. We talked for more than an hour and I had to keep being careful not to slip in what I said and reveal that I was in high school and still 16. He told me about his hometown in the northern part of the state, the scholarship he had to go to college, and his job. I excused myself at one point to go to the restroom and as I walked back I could see him, very obviously and without trying to hide it, checking me out... my legs, breasts, hips, and I imagined that when I walked into the cafe to go to the ladies room he had also checked out my butt. This time I sat sideways to the table, and crossed my legs so about two-thirds of my thigh was showing. At age 16 it's hard to know what to do because you lack experience, but in my still naive way I was trying to show him that I was offering myself to him.
Finally he said, "Listen, I would love to get something to eat, and there's a cajun restaurant near where I live, a couple of blocks from here. Will you join me?." "Yes," I answered in a second. Anthony said, "I'd like to change out of these clothes... come with me to my place, we'll grab a glass of wine of something and I'll change." "Sure," I said, "and I hope it's not too fancy, I'm not very elegant here." "No, it's not fancy, and you look so fine." I think I finally blushed.
