Finding Mr. Right

Editor's Note: this fictional work contains raceplay content.

I have to tell the truth. If, before I met Jordan, anyone would have predicted that my life would have turned out the way it has I would have believed they were crazy. But now I'm more open minded and open to the various opportunities life has to offer. Something that would never have happened if Jordan had never entered my life.

My name is Erica and a little more than eight years ago I was sitting at a table in a distant corner in a coffee shop, enjoying some time alone, when Jordan showed up. I had never met him before as he was new in town, but he walked straight up to my table and pulled back a chair and sat down. Despite being uninvited, he didn't excuse himself. For a long moment he didn't say anything at all, he just looked at me.

Yeah, he looked at me. And, yeah, there was that same blazing heat in his eyes that most men had displayed when looking at me. It was an expression of fiery lust that said that they would love nothing better than to rip my clothing off right then and there, bend me over the table and fill my cunt with hot hard cock in front of every man, woman, and child in the place. I was used to it.

At twenty years old, I was a mother of three and a phenomenal beauty. I am biracial, a mixture of black and white genes, and it appears that I gained my physical attributes from a combination of all the best of those genes. I am small, at 5'3", with long flowing auburn-brown hair, a buttery high yellow complexion, and a strikingly lovely face with full lips and exotic slanted eyes that were a mixed green and hazel hue. I have a petite slender figure that has slight curves in all the right places, though my tits are smaller than I would like them to be. My breasts are just barely large enough to fill in a man's hands and have pert tan toned nipples that are not too long or too small, and which are always erect and poking visibly through the front of my shirt.

What I love most about my body is the slender form of my legs and the cute, small, tight, roundness of my tush. I've found that many black men have the stereotypical desire for a woman with more junk in the trunk. Of course, that doesn't mean they don't like my ass, it just means they prefer a bigger one. Which is okay because I have my preferences too. The most important of which is that love my lover's cocks to be long, fat, and white. On occasion a black or Spanish dick is enjoyable, but my favorite is a supersized prick on a blond or red headed white stud.

Then there's the fact that when white guys looked at me with such burning hunger, I was usually looking at them the same way. But with Jordan it was different. He was a tall, slim, and handsome black guy, with dark brown skin. At any other time I might have found a guy who looked like him, even a black one, to be a possible source of entertainment. But something about him gave me pause and made me uncomfortable. There was also the fact that I was trying to change my life around and his arrival was not making it easier.

I have been called a sex addict by my friends and family. My lovers, both male and female, have referred to me as a nympho, whore, slut, or cum dump. Truth is, their description of me was true. I was an insatiably cock hungry little bitch. To me sex was like breathing. I would drop my panties just as easily as I would take a breath of air. But I was trying to change that and had joined an addiction group hoping they could help.

"My name is Jordan," the man said, reaching across the table to offer his hand. "I hope you don't mind my joining you. I've been asking around, you know, about people here in town. And from what I hear you are the woman I most want to meet."

"What have you heard?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I already knew.

"Well, everybody I talked to says the same thing. They say you're the fun, party girl," he replied.

"You mean they called me a slut," I stated.

"Well..., I was trying to be politically correct," he smiled. "But, yeah, that's what they said."

"I'm not like that anymore. Or, anyway, I'm trying not to be. I'm trying to change my life for the better. I'll bet they didn't tell you that, did they?"

"They told me. They said your friends and family convinced you to get help for your problem."

"If you know I'm trying to change things, why are you here?"

"I'm here to convince you not to change," he said, continuing to smile as he leaned back in his chair and made himself more comfortable.

As for me, I was shocked. I would never have imagined or expected that anyone would have said such a thing to me. Especially someone I had never met before.

"What? Why...? Why would you want to do that?" I stammered incredulously.

"Because I like the woman I see and I like the woman I've heard about. The only thing I don't like is that you have allowed others to browbeat you into doing something you don't really want to do. The only reason you are trying to change what you are is to show yourself as acceptable in their eyes, and what they've probably told you is the view of society. I say fuck that. Do what you enjoy and is acceptable to you and the person you are with. Screw everybody else.

"If you were mentally ill and suffering from true nymphomania I could understand people being concerned. But you are just a beautiful woman who enjoys an exceptional appetite for sex. That's not an illness, that's just an ability to revel in pleasure."

"You just want me to go back to being the way that I was because you want to get in my pants," I frowned, knowing that to be true.

Jordan laughed softly.

"Oh Erica, that I want to get in your pants is obvious. Why wouldn't I want to get in your pants? You are extremely attractive. On a sexual level you are a most scrumptious piece of ass and I wouldn't be surprised if every man and woman who saw you desired a taste. So, let's not state the obvious," he said in a baritone voice that was calm, smooth, and confident. "Instead, let me say something a bit less obvious and that you might find just a little frightening.

"The reason I want to convince you to stay your perfect self, rather than support your attempt to be something you're not, is because I'm pretty sure that by this time next year I'll be calling you my wife."

"Wife? You want to marry me? You don't know me. That's crazy."

"Really? Why? Because, as you say, I don't know you? I probably know you better than you think. But even if I'm wrong and you are completely different from what I expect, I think I'd enjoy the journey of getting to learn those things I don't know," he said, completely unfazed by the situation. "It would be a shared adventure that I'm sure we will both find pleasurable. What do you say?"

Talk about a man saying all the things a woman wants to hear. Jordan had definitely gained my attention, even though I continued to think of him as insane. I reasoned that he was definitely a sex freak. That seemed so clear I would have put money on it. But I couldn't be sure of the limitation of his sexuality. Another thing that was easily apparent to me was that he liked the idea of a woman fucking. He claimed he wanted to marry me, but he wanted me to continue to be sexually available. Recognizing that he wanted a hot wife, I found myself wondering if what I was dealing with was a guy who wanted the fantasy of a hot wife, or a man who sought the reality of a hot wife, including all of the trimmings.

Just being with a woman who fucks other men was too much for most men to handle, but marrying one and accepting everything that comes with that claim of commitment was quite another. I knew that my taking the time to even consider what he said made me as insane as he sounded, but I couldn't help it. The mere possibility that the illogical and impractical offer Jordan had made was real turned my cunt into a hot, wet swamp that burned with fiery desire.

Jordan was right. I wasn't trying to change because it was something I desired. I was doing it in submission to others I cared about. Because of that, and because I was trying to stop doing something I liked, it had been extremely hard to curb myself. Suddenly, out of the blue, I was being offered a very fundamental, a very basic, aspect of what I'd always fantasized about having in a relationship. The ability to fuck as freely as I desired. Then I frowned, thinking that even if Jordan was okay with his woman spreading her legs for other men, my personal sexual nature would most probably disgust him. Though the people he spoke to may have told him I was promiscuous, I was sure they hadn't told him everything. I was positive they hadn't even told him the most fundamental thing he needed to know, like the fact that I preferred white cock. What he knew was only the surface.

Being biracial, I could claim that my attraction to white men was because of that aspect of my heritage. Yeah, I could say that. But I would be lying.

Sure, I am half white, but it is the black genes in me that crave white cock. To those women who consider themselves to be strong and proud black women, I would be thought of as a disgrace if they knew the extent of my desire for the white flesh of both men and women. I figured Jordan would be disgusted as well. Not only would he change his mind about the idea of a possible marriage to me, he would probably question why he ever thought it was a good idea to speak to me at all. By the time I finished eating dinner I had decided that I needed to talk to him again.

This is insane. I'm actually thinking about accepting a marriage proposal from a guy I don't know, just because he has claimed that he wants a slutwife and that I will be free to fuck as much as I want, I thought. I haven't even speculated about the practicalities and necessities, such as, most importantly, is he financially stable enough to support me and my three kids. And the funny thing is, even now that it has come to mind, I still don't care about whether he has money. If he doesn't have money, that just makes his request more intriguing and special. If he doesn't have money then what he is seeking is more than a sex partner. While the same might be true if he does have money, if he doesn't have it he is saying he wants to commit himself to actually sharing and building a life with me.

Jordan had said that I might find what he said to be a little frightening. That was an understatement. As I thought of the true implications of what I was being offered, I became terrified. He was offering me the one thing I had always so desperately wanted and thought I would never be able to have, and I was terrified because, just as he was sure he would be calling me wife, I was equally sure I would be calling him husband.

So, yes, I needed to talk to him again. Though Jordan hadn't sought to subject me to any tests when he offered to marry me, I planned to do so with him. I needed him to know exactly the type of woman he was asking to marry him. And, as for myself, I needed to know that he accepted the real me and not just the hot piece of ass everybody told him about. But talking to Jordan had to wait.

I could blame what happened next on Jordan, but I won't. I'm sure that it would have eventually happened anyway. That very night I ended my reluctant abstinence in a big way. I called a biker I knew and had him bring a few friends over for a totally exhausting gangbang that left me passed out in bed and covered in cum.

Two weeks later I got in contact with Jordan and invited him to my place. Then I arranged to have the kids stay at a friend's home, after which I made another call. That evening we had dinner and talked, getting to know one another. He wasn't rich, but he had a nice job, had just begun the purchase of a house, and owned a nice car. From my questions, he got the idea of what I was trying to find out and he told me the answer to my real question.

"No. I'm not a rich pervert," he laughed. "I'm just an average perv. And as to that question of why am I choosing you, the answer is because I want a woman who is my sexual equal. They tell me you're a skank. They say that you'll fuck anything on two legs. I've found that most women who have such a strong hunger for carnal sensation are self-hating. I've discovered that most highly sexual black women, no matter how beautiful they are, tend toward that same position of self-loathing, as if they don't deserve to be loved, respected, cherished, or worshipped because of their sexual nature.

"There's this thing about presenting the image of being a strong black woman that I find to be insanely contradictory to reality. How can a woman present an image of being strong, confident and capable, if she is letting the dictates of others define her and rule her actions. I'm hoping you are not like that and can accept that a man might treasure the woman you are."

That night I had one of my lovers come over and I l let Jordan watch me get fucked. I have a few black guys I fuck on occasion, but I didn't call any of them. Instead, I let him see that I was a white cock whore. When Danny arrived, he wanted to know who the black guy was and I told him it was my fiancée. Upon hearing that, Danny was both concerned and turned on about it. The idea of fucking me in front of a black man I was going to marry made his cock harder than steel. He later told me that it had been one of his favorite fantasies to imagine himself fucking a black man's woman in front of him and leaving her with him after he'd repeatedly filled her pussy with his big white dick and massive loads of cum. And he did just that. But because he was unsure of how Jordan would respond, he didn't fuck me the way he usually did, so it wasn't the best for either of us.

I understood exactly what he was feeling, so I didn't make the mistake of calling another guy who might feel the same way. Instead, I called someone I knew wouldn't possess any of those concerns at all. I knew I should have called him first, but I had really wanted to ease Jordan into my life before throwing him headfirst into the deep end of the pool. However extreme circumstances called for extreme measures.

Everything was set when Jordan arrived at my apartment. By the time he got there we were in full swing. I knew when he entered the apartment because the doorway of my bedroom opened to a direct view of the door of the apartment. I saw him step through and knew that he could clearly see and hear everything. At that point it was too late to stop and wouldn't have stopped even if I could. Besides, the entire point of my telling him to come by and to walk right in was to let him see first-hand what he had to look forward to with me for a wife.

I lay on my back and Benny lay on top of me, his tall, muscular body completely covering mine and his strong hands gripping the cheeks of my ass as he slammed his fat ten-inch cock in and out of my creaming cunt. It was our second fuck, and just like the first there was nothing tender or loving about it. Benny fucked me hard, ramming his cock viciously in and out of my juicing snatch and I was loving every minute of it. At the same time, Melissa, Benny's wife, was climbing onto the bed to position herself over my face so that I could eat her dripping, blond haired twat.

It is important that explain now why I called them instead of one or more of my other lovers. First of all, Benny is a gorgeous blond-haired stud. Like I said before, he is tall and muscular. He also has a black belt in some Asian type of fighting so I knew he could handle the situation if Jordan discovered he couldn't handle what was happening and tried to do something about it. It was also essential that he be there so that Jordan would know the entire truth.

You see, Benny is my half-brother and he's a spitting image of our dad. Our father left his mother for mine and to this day he hates me for it. One of the main things that turns him on about fucking me is that he knows I love him and will let him use me in any way he desires. My mouth, pussy, and ass are his for the taking, whenever and wherever he wants. And he has a very inventive mind when it comes to thinking of ways he might degrade me sexually.

Melissa is the same way. She is a magnificently beautiful natural platinum blond with a flawless porcelain complexion that has a silken smoothness that flows over her entire body. I'd seen her before as she went to the same school I did, though she had graduated during my freshman year, and she used to live in the same neighborhood I did. I had no idea that she knew Benjamin until he took me home with him one day and introduced her as his wife. She didn't bat an eye when he introduced me to her as his nigger sex slave. She just walked up to me and slapped me hard across the face then pushed me down on my back on the cold floor as Benny closed the door.

"So you're Benny's black whore of a sister," she said, as she removed her skirt then slid her sky blue panties down from her hips and took them off. "He says you're a hot little slave slut who'll do anything he says. Well, from now on you're also going to do whatever I say. You're not just a white cock owned and white bred, bitch. You're also white cunt owned. You're gonna worship my pussy the same way you do my husband's prick. Got that?"

Not waiting for my answer, the lovely, slender built, blond woman got on top of me and lowered her soft furred pussy to my mouth. After that, I became as much a slave to her desires as I was to his.

"Fuck that nigger slut," Melissa said to her husband. "Fuck her and shoot her hot snatch full of your seed, honey. Cum in her and knock her up again. See if that fool she says wants to marry her still wants her when she's pregnant with your inbred baby."

"Is that what you want?" Benny asked. He thrust his cock into me strongly. "Do you want me to fuck another kid into your hot nigger cunt?"

"Yes! Yes! Fuck my nigger pussy, Benny. Fuck my nigger pussy full of your cum and breed me," I moaned ecstatically, my body writhing and hips rising and falling in time with his thrusts so that I was fucking myself up onto his bare white prick just as hard as he was fucking it into me. At the same time, I was looking past him and directly into Jordan's eyes. Something about doing so added tremendously to the fiery sensations raging in my pussy, it was as if every word I spoke was a splash of gasoline to the flames. "I love white cock. And I love your white cock more than any other. Oh, oh, oh. Use my pussy as you see fit, stud. I'm a hot nigger cumdump. I will always be a hot pussied nigger cumdump for white cock. And I will always want to be white bred and feel my big brother's babies growing in my womb."

"Shut up, bitch. He didn't really want an answer to his question. We've already decided that he's going to knock you up again. We want to give you a wedding present and send you walking down the aisle with your belly swollen with your brother's baby," Melissa smiled obscenely, her sapphire blue eyes flashing with perverse thrill. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A nasty little nigger slut like you would just love it if you were to marry a black man while your belly is big with a white man's baby. Yeah. And maybe standing at the altar with another man's cum dripping from your cunt after a wedding eve orgy, like I did, will keep your pussy hot all through the ceremony and reception."

The gorgeous, slender blond woman smothered me in the luxuriant silken softness of her perfectly trimmed triangle of pubic hair as she pressed the wetness of her plump pussy lips against my mouth. The honeyed sweetness of her juices greeted my tongue as I swept it through the heated crevasse, from the entrance of her dripping pussyhole to her erect pink clit. She moaned softly, the pleasure resonating through her cunt and womb as I flickered my tongue against that throbbing bud of flesh.