For a long time, I had been a mentor to Jeffrey, a promising young British PhD student. We would meet on Facetime and I would guide him in his chemistry research. We shared a common passion for the fine-structure of carbohydrates, and Jeffrey's doctoral advisor was my regular co-author. It was a natural fit. I became almost like Jeffrey's father figure. So when Jeffrey and his girlfriend flew to Chicago for a conference, OF COURSE my wife and I hosted them.
"You have a really pretty belly," said Jules, my wife, to Jeffrey's girlfriend Cynthia. "How far along are you?"
Cynthia rubbed her belly and smiled. "Exactly four months now," she said.
"Congratulations, Jeffrey," I said, clapping my protege on the shoulder.
"Oh, it's not Jeffrey's," said Cynthia with a giggle. Jeffrey's face went a little red.
"Wait," I said. "I thought you guys had been seeing each other for..."
"Two years now," said Jeffrey, adjusting his collar nervously.
"I better go check on the cooking!" said Jules, trying to diplomatically change the subject.
"Hey, it's alright," said Cynthia, "We aren't hiding it or anything."
"Yeah," said Jeffrey, though I could tell from his voice he was a little embarrassed. "I guess it's time you found out about Cynthia and me."
We listened to Jeffrey with undivided attention.
"It was early on in our relationship," said Jeffrey. "Our sixth date, to be exact." He went over behind Cynthia and started affectionately kneading her shoulders.
"We'd had a few drinks and Jeffrey was a little touchy-feely," said Cynthia, beaming.
"We went back to my flat," said Jeffrey, "and we were fooling around. I was thinking to myself: finally I'm gonna score with this beautiful, gorgeous girl!"
"Things were getting hot and heavy. Clothes were coming off," said Cynthia. "That's when Jeffrey saw my tattoo."
"Your tattoo?" said Jules.
Cynthia tugged on her blouse, giving us all a glimpse of her bra. On the side of her left tit, peeking up from under the bra, Cynthia wore a Queen of Spades tattoo with the letter "Q" in the middle and some hearts floating around it.
"What's that?" I said.
"That's exactly what Jeffrey asked," said Cynthia.
"Cynthia explained to me that when white girls get a Queen of Spades tattoo, it means they're sexually reserved exclusively for black men," said Jeffrey. "I suddenly realized I wouldn't be getting intimate with her on the sixth date, or the seventh date, or on any date, forever."
"That's right," said Cynthia. "We continued making out, and I assured Jeffrey I really liked him. 'I really like you and I'd love to continue dating you,' I said, 'But you have to accept I'll only ever have sex with black men.'"
"I was shocked," said Jeffrey. "I had grown quite fond of Cynthia over those six dates. I couldn't bring myself to break things off with her! But I couldn't answer her, either. I guess a part of me kept stupidly thinking if I just kept on kissing her and touching her, I could wear down her defenses and she'd break her black-men-only rule for me."
"I was really fond of Jeffrey too," said Cynthia, "and I really meant it when I told him I wanted to keep seeing him. At the same time, I understood how frustrated he must be. So to have mercy on him I reached down and unzipped his pants. Long story short, I used my hand to help with his pent-up tension. When I felt he was just about to cum in my hand, I leaned close and whispered to him: 'Imagine your girl is fucking a huge black cock right in front of you'. Jeffrey started groaning and spraying cum everywhere. I felt a wave of relief because I knew right that moment, Jeffrey and I were gonna make a nice couple."
"So for the two whole years you've been together you've never once... you know... done it?" said my wife Jules.
"That's right!" Cynthia beamed like she was proud of herself.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Although we didn't know about the Queen of Spades, my wife Jules and I weren't entirely innocent either.
Like Cynthia, Jules was also very fond of coloured gentlemen. She had dated a number of them before me. Neither was she ashamed of it; she kept pictures up on her Facebook archive from back when she was dating them. 'No worries,' she would always assure me, 'Jamal has an amazing cock, but I could never imagine MARRYING him!' Or: 'With Kendrick it was purely physical, honey, you have nothing to be jealous about.' Or, 'Tyrone? Don't be silly, honey, Tyrone sleeps with so many girls, I doubt he would even recognize me!'
Nevertheless my worries WERE valid, because, sure enough, I caught Jules cheating on me with one of her black ex's early in our marriage.
There was all sorts of bitter crying and shouting. To be honest, we came THIS close to separating. Finally, after all kinds of promises that the guy meant nothing to her; that I was everything to Jules and that she would never ever cheat again; we reconciled.
Life slowly went back to normal. By the time two years had passed, I almost forgot all about my wife's extramarital affair.
That is, until one day I caught her cheating with ANOTHER black guy!
We repeated the whole almost-breaking-up thing once again, and then we repeated the whole promises-and-reconciling thing. That second time, it only took half as long before Jules fell back into her adulterous ways. One year after we reconciled, I caught her in bed with a THIRD black guy.
By that point I pretty much resigned myself to the fact I was going to have to just accept my wife needed some black cock every now and then, if our marriage was going to survive. I faced the truth: there was no stopping Jules from cheating on me with black men.
We settled on a compromise. Jules could go out on one date per month with a black lover, provided she agreed to some strict rules. It was to be purely physical, she was to reserve all her love and affection for me, her lawful husband. She was to be home no later than 1:00am after every date. And, since we never used birth control, she was strictly required to use condoms AND make her lover pull out. Just to be double-safe.
"Oh, thank you darling, thank you, thank you!" Jules hugged me and kissed me. "Thank you for being so understanding, my love!!"
So when we learned Jeffrey's girlfriend Cynthia reserved her pussy exclusively for black men, and that my protege was a pussyfree cuck, it didn't catch us COMPLETELY out of left field.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Needless to say, my wife Jules was absolutely fascinated by Jeffrey and Cynthia's lifestyle. The whole rest of the evening, it was all the four of us talked about. Finally, Jules and Cynthia exchanged contacts so they could continue their conversation indefinitely.
"We'll convert you into a Queen of Spades in no time," said Cynthia to Jules, joking. We all laughed, but secretly I was kind of nervous.
Even though I was Jeffrey's mentor, from that day on, Jeffrey's girlfriend became my WIFE'S mentor. I'd be in one room talking with Jeffrey over Facetime about the nuances of carbohydride ions, and in the other room, Jules would be on Facetime with Cynthia, chatting about BBC, or about black breeding.
On the plus side, all that mentorship really brought the bedroom to life. Jules would ride me with abandon, and I had never felt her pussy so wet before. She'd be on top of me, grinding her labia down against my crotch while playing with her nipples and jiggling her big boobs, or else leaning down so I could suck on one of her watermelons. Then she'd start teasing me mercilessly, saying things like: "Don't you think I'd look pretty with one of those Queen of Spades tattoos, darling?" Or, "Think how hot it would be if I was full of black cum right now!" Or, "Darling you're making me so horny, I might have to visit one of my black lovers right after this!"
I would lose control and pump my useless seed in her pussy. I had taken a vasectomy so there was no risk I could put a baby in my wife's womb.
I started snooping on Jules's text messages with Cynthia, and I could barely believe what I was seeing.
Cynthia was hellbent on "converting" Jules into a black-owned snowbunny. All hours of the day, she would send my wife scandalous porno images with suggestive captions. Imagine your innocent wife grocery-shopping, and suddenly she gets a text from her girlfriend. It's a picture of a beautiful blonde girl devouring a GIGANTIC black phallus, and the caption at the bottom says, 'I could never go back to my husband's little white noodle!' Or else she's taking your clothes to the dry cleaners, and it's an image of a huge ripped black thug passionately french kissing a whitegirl half his size and the caption says, 'I love my white husband but my pussy loves black men.' Or she's cooking dinner for you and it's an animated gif of an enormous coal-black dong withdrawing from a white pussy and a fucking FLOOD of cum starts gushing out after it. 'I'm gonna test how unconditional my husband's love really is,' says the caption, 'I'm gonna tell him my bull got me pregnant!'
Soon I fell under the power of the hypnotic captions myself. I started fantasizing about my cute little wife with her black lovers. Soon I could hardly close my eyes without an image flashing of my pretty wife getting sexed up by some black thug. Before, I had resented Jules's monthly dates with her black suitors. But when those caption pictures brainwashed me, I found myself looking forward to my wife's "date nights"! I found myself grateful for them, like I was LUCKY to have such a naughty, unfaithful wife!
"I really wanna get a Queen of Spades tattoo," Jules texted to Cynthia in one of their conversations I was snooping.
"Just be patient," texted Cynthia, "stick to the plan. Let him keep spying on your phone. Let him keep discovering all the pictures I keep sending you. You don't have to worry about asking for a Queen of Spades, he'll be asking YOU to get one soon!"
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
