I'm a happily married forty-one-year-old man with three teenage children, two girls and a boy. My very beautiful, petite wife, Lynda, is truly my soulmate and the only girl I've ever known intimately. I'm the IT administrator for a major firm in Florida, and recently hired a new assistant to keep up with the demands of the job.
Among the six applicants, Jack was unanimously selected by the hiring committee. He's a college graduate relocating from Mississippi. His prior position as a State employee had been eliminated. He came with the highest of recommendation from his previous supervisor, had impeccable personal references, and most importantly, he really knew the job and would fit right in. He came to the interview overdressed for the position and treated all with the utmost respect, addressing everyone as Sir or Ma'am. When I called to let him know the job was his, he acknowledged with a very proper, "Thank you Sir. I'll not disappoint you."
Uncomfortable with formal address, especially from Jack who happened to be black, I asked, "Please, call me Ed." My aversion to unearned expressions of respect from blacks was rooted in a childhood experience that burned into my memory. Having been raised in an all-white community, my first encounter with a black man came while vacationing in the South with my parents. I remember riding a cog train up a mountain, and upon reaching the top, I raced through the gift shop asking the clerk where the restroom was. I was in a hurry and never missed a step. She recognized the urgency with a smile and snicker and pointed to the back door. I darted out and ran directly into the black janitor who was sweeping the walk, nearly knocking him over. "I'm so sorry, Master," he apologized in spite of the fact that I was the one who should be asking forgiveness. I was too preoccupied to respond to his apology and simply demanded to know where the bathroom was. He pointed towards two doors at the back of the building with three signs above: Men, Women, and Crows; with an arrow under it pointing toward the woods. I dashed for the men's room and made it just in time. While relieving myself, I puzzled about the sign; Crows? Was the sign for birds meant as a joke?
My father came in shortly after, making sure I was okay. I told him how I'd run into the janitor and that he called me Master, acting kind of like he was scared of me. I wanted to know why he acted like that and why would he call me Master. "That's normal here. It's a sign of respect because you are white. The niggers here know their place," he told me. Then I asked about the Crows sign over the bathroom door. He went on, "Bathrooms are for white's only. Crows have to use the woods." It still took me a moment to process; niggers were crows.
Even at my young age I knew that was outrageously wrong. Not that the N word itself bothered me; I'd seldom heard it and never heard any other word for the race; but the blatant, self-righteous degradation of people, simply because they weren't white, really bothered me. I wondered how my father could think that way. I never really got over it. To this day, I still experience pangs of guilt and shame when a black person renders what I think may be undue respect. I sure as hell don't want to be treated as special just because I'm white. It's not an accomplishment.
I waited through an awkward delay after asking Jack to call me Ed. Finally, he replied, "Yes Sir, but only if you insist. I'm really not accustomed to addressing the boss by first name. At my last job, I could have been dismissed for insubordination had I done that."
It took a week or so before Jack was comfortable enough to address me on a first name basis. We really got along well and he was fitting in perfectly. By his third week of employment, I had to ask him to stay after normal work hours to install new software on all the machines. His only issue was finding a night-time baby sitter. I told him I'd ask my wife if she could help out as this was just an unusual, but urgent requirement.
Lynda was more than willing to assist. We started our task at seven the next evening and finished by nine-thirty, a good hour ahead of schedule. "Great job," I commended, "You made easy work of this. Let me buy you a drink before we go home."
We walked to the bar just across the street, and as one drink turned into four, Jack opened up about his personal life. He told me how he'd become the single parent of two little girls, eight and ten-year-old's. He explained how he and his wife were constantly arguing about his infidelities, and she finally insisted on a divorce. "I wished nothing bad for her, but she threatened to take the girls away from me. Before she could serve divorce papers, she had a fatal car accident. That was nearly two years ago. I was devastated and still miss her. But at least I still have my girls; something that wouldn't be if she'd gotten the divorce. She knew before we were married that I fucked lots of women and she should have known that wasn't going to change. It really pissed me off that she wanted a divorce over it."
"I'm sorry things worked out that way for you, but I've never heard a more classic cake dilemma. I'm glad you still have your little girls anyway," I told him. Then, after some delay, I ignored my better judgment and confessed, "I have to tell you, I really envy your sex life. I've only had one woman my entire life, my JUNIOR High sweetheart. Been married to her now for 20 years. I always wondered what it would be like to fuck other women; and think my beautiful wife surely must have similar thoughts. We started young. First time we did it she was only thirteen; I was fourteen. We're lucky she didn't get pregnant before we married."
"My wife first fucked me on her eighteenth birthday," Jack responded, "and she did get pregnant before we married; but she wasn't my first fuck. I was a horny eighteen-year-old virgin when I discovered 'Personal Contacts' on Craigslist and opened a category called 'Man and Woman looking for a Man.' There was an add there from a married, forty's couple that said they were looking for a young, hung, thick, eight plus, BBC for their first threesome. They included a photo of a very hot little MILF, thin with perky little tits and the ass of a ten-year-old boy. They said the respondent would have to be OK with some MM play, at least accepting oral from him, and that the person must be drug and disease free because there would be no condoms. Bareback only so hubby could clean up. I thought, why not? I really didn't want to play with the guy, but if all they insisted on is that he be allowed to suck my cock, I didn't care. A mouth is a mouth; right? I sent them a reply and met them at a hotel the next night."
"The woman was so horny and fucked my brains out while the wimpy husband helped. He sucked my cock while I worked on his wife's pussy until she was gaping open and wet, then he guided my cock to her pussy and played with my balls and licked my ass while I fucked his wife. I was amazed that my whole cock fit inside her little cunt. After I nutted, he cleaned my cock then ate my cum from her pussy while she sucked on me until I was boned up again. That was my first fuck; the best ten seconds of my life! But I can go four or five times a night, so I made up for it. She told all her friends about me, and soon I was fucking a different bitch every night, sometimes two of them the same night."
"And your wife knew you were doing this when you met her?"
Jack broke out in laughter, "Fuck yeah she knew. About three years after I'd first fucked her mama, the bitch I just told you about, I took my wife's virginity. When she turned eighteen, her mama rented a hotel room, stocked it with booze, and gave her daughter the key as a birthday gift. She told her a guy named Jack would meet her there at nine, and that she should go early to shower, put on the negligee laid out on the bed for her and have a few drinks. When he gets there, she told her, just follow his lead, be nice and do whatever he wants. He'll make you very happy, she told her. I was really excited about it. I'd been fucking lots of women, but mostly older, married cunts. This was my first really young pussy, my first virgin cunt."
"Oh, shit! Her mom actually gave you her daughter?" I replied in astonishment. "She must have thought you were something very special if she was willing to give you her daughter's cherry."
"I guess. She must have suggested it to her best friend too, cause when her friend's daughter turned eighteen, I became her birthday present too. Cunt wasn't the virgin her mama said she was though. When I fucked my wife for the first time, I really had to work at it. I only fingered her deep enough to touch her hymen without disturbing it. I wanted to bust through it with the big, blunt head of my cock. I took her on her back with her legs on my shoulders, used lots of lube, and took at least five minutes just to pop the head inside. It was slow going. Damn, she was tight! And when I finished, the towel I put on the bed to catch the cum gusher that always follows one of my fucks was pink with blood."
