02-07-2023, 05:20 PM
After that first incredible night of being blacked by Jerome--my first black sex ever--and even though I was ready to swear my life away to black cock, Jerome sent me home with instructions to "relax and think it over" because it's a big step to do all that he required, to give up the possibility of a "normal" life with my fiancé, Tom, whom I had previously thought of as the love of my life.
Jerome was right of course. It was a giant step to consider. And once the bliss of that first night (and next morning!) together had faded for a little, some genuine angst started to set in.
If I really did agree to becoming black owned and follow through with it, it would be a huge change in my life. Yes, of course, nothing would be the same with Tom. But the changes wouldn't stop there. Inevitably everyone I know would find out. I would certainly start having black babies before long. My parents would find out. My brother and sisters. Aunts and uncles and cousins. All of my friends from high college, from college. My friends from grad college. Indeed, with my having little mocha-colored babies, my coworkers would find out. Same with my bosses and the "big bosses" at the consulting firm where I worked.
Not only would people put together that I had a brown "baby daddy" (and then maybe multiple daddies, depending on what Jerome wanted!) but they would probably also learn of my total lifestyle, as I would be expected to find some white fellow to marry, and he would also be in the picture.
For a first brown baby, we might be able to get away with a story about a sperm donor. But how about a second brown baby? Who would believe that we had picked a brown-skinned sperm donor not just once, but twice or thrice? Or if we tried a ridiculous tale about two sperm donor mistakes in a row? Of course I would be sunk from hiding my lifestyle once I had a second brown baby. And if I got hooked enough on Jerome to have brown baby #1, it only stands to reason that I would also go for brown baby #2 (or maybe even more!)... Jerome had mentioned that he never planned to stop breeding any woman he possessed, and if the babies became too expensive for my future husband and me to keep, adoption would be the expected option. (I guess I figured he would relent and not TOTALLY turn me into a baby factory!)
Although we lived in sophisticated suburban Boston and not some Southern backwater, or what have you, this kind of thing still would be viewed at least as quite "unusual"--in fact, without me being married to a black man, it would be viewed by others, I am sure, as quite bizarre, and by some certainly as "perverted."
I thought about how, realistically, I could end up shunned by some people. Maybe I would even lose a good chunk of my family and friends to this? Maybe I would lose my own Mom and Dad? Maybe one or more of my siblings?
Yes, that's what seemed most likely. Probably I *would* lose a bunch of people--including people I loved dearly and counted on in my life. Would I gain others? I mean, besides my new Black "owner" and his handful of good pals would I really gain anyone? Jerome had mentioned that he had several friends and associates who owned white women the way that he proposed to own me, and that I could meet some of the other women and make friends. But he also cautioned me that few, if any, of them were as educated and professional as I, so I might not feel like I have that much in common (except of course our sexual needs!).
So probably while my sex life would explode into this new level of satisfaction that I had never before even conceived of, the other parts of my life, my social life and family life, they would shrink.
Could I make that sacrifice?
I went on a lot of long walks over the next week--while Tom remained away and Jerome had me thinking it over. Each walk ended the same way. I had a bittersweet feeling of impending loss--but at the same time soaked panties.
Once I would round the corner and see my apartment building door, the prospect of some relief through self-pleasure would get so great that I could swear that once or twice not only were my panties soaked, but I was almost panting! Only a long session with my new big brown dildo would then take the edge off. After this went on for three or four days--and Tom mercifully was still on the road--I did realize the clear conclusion: I had to do it. I had to go black. I had to let Jerome own me and my pussy (and mouth, rear end, and everything!). Now that I had sample the sexual nirvana of being blacked--at least the nirvana it was like for me..... and even though it would mean some real personal losses.... At the age of 32-and-a-half, I, Sally XXXXXX--clean cut professional white woman from Massachusetts--I would be going all the way Black. There was absolutely no way I could call Jerome and say anything other than "I'm in."
I called up Jerome to tell him. I was excited as I had ever been for a phone call. "Jerome, I've thought it over. I know there will be a lot that will change in my life. I'll have to plan to accept some losses, including probably losing some people who are important to me. But the connection with you and being blacked by you is just too exciting. I have to do it--if you still also want me. Let's do it. Let's have you own my pussy... and I guess the other parts of me, too!" That last part I added a little bit sheepishly, I admit! As turned on as I was, I was also a little bit scared of what I was getting myself into!
"Hey, Sally. Fabulous news! I thought that's what you were going to decide, but I'm glad you took a few days. Absolutely fabulous. I'll be over in an hour so we can celebrate. Why don't you put on some music and pour yourself some wine, and I'll be right there..."
After pausing for a beat, Jerome added, "...Hey, you know what else, actually?... Listen, my buddy Rex from my time in the Marines is hanging out with me tonight... We were catching up and watching the game... He's a good man, and a dear friend... The kind of friend I told you we would include... How would you feel about getting started? It would be VERY special to me if we celebrated your 'Decision Night' with one of my best friends."
I only hesitated for maybe half a second: "Sounds good to me, Jerome... Is there anything special I should do to get ready?" Jerome proceeded to give me some detailed direction to put just some skimpy lingerie and a robe on for him and his friend...
I, too, had already been thinking about this scenario--it was a daydream on most of my walks even! So I had a question ready for him as well: "I've been meaning to ask you, by the way... Would you like me to call you 'Master' when we're in situations with other people? I've been thinking it might turn you on.... And, well, um... It would turn me on, too, actually... And, well, you pretty much are my master now, aren't you?" I cooed.
"Yeah, babe. Sorry I forgot to mention. I got so caught up in the big stuff. Definitely you should call me 'master' or 'sir' in the presence of others. Thanks for catching the vibe. You are special, aren't you?! Damn!! We'll be there in a little bit. You remember your other rules?"
I was getting so excited just talking about him and Rex coming over! I can't remember ever being so turned on from just talking on the phone! "You know, babe, I might not be exactly sure of all the rules... Why don't you email them to me to study later... In the meantime, when you and Rex get here, you can just make me do whatever you want!" And I really meant it! I knew they weren't interested in hurting me--just blacking me... blacking me thoroughly and deeply with their big black cocks!
Jerome added, "One more thing, babe. I'd feel more comfortable in front of my friends being a little nastier than when we're on our own. It's more in my gang's mojo, if you know what I mean... You gonna be okay if we call you 'slut' or 'bitch' or 'whore' or even the c-word?"
I seriously double-loved this! I loved that my new black owner was going to be both sweet and rough, both kind and callous, both gentle and hard. This combination, together with his amazing physique, his rugged handsomeness, and his huge cock--the whole package was exactly why I was so excited for Jerome to own me!
It took me only a minute to get dressed to Jerome's liking. Then I couldn't help but stroke my pussy some while I waited for the two men to come over. I made sure to sit on a little towel that I could quickly throw behind the couch when I would run to answer the door--and that towel was sure going to get wet!
Jerome was right of course. It was a giant step to consider. And once the bliss of that first night (and next morning!) together had faded for a little, some genuine angst started to set in.
If I really did agree to becoming black owned and follow through with it, it would be a huge change in my life. Yes, of course, nothing would be the same with Tom. But the changes wouldn't stop there. Inevitably everyone I know would find out. I would certainly start having black babies before long. My parents would find out. My brother and sisters. Aunts and uncles and cousins. All of my friends from high college, from college. My friends from grad college. Indeed, with my having little mocha-colored babies, my coworkers would find out. Same with my bosses and the "big bosses" at the consulting firm where I worked.
Not only would people put together that I had a brown "baby daddy" (and then maybe multiple daddies, depending on what Jerome wanted!) but they would probably also learn of my total lifestyle, as I would be expected to find some white fellow to marry, and he would also be in the picture.
For a first brown baby, we might be able to get away with a story about a sperm donor. But how about a second brown baby? Who would believe that we had picked a brown-skinned sperm donor not just once, but twice or thrice? Or if we tried a ridiculous tale about two sperm donor mistakes in a row? Of course I would be sunk from hiding my lifestyle once I had a second brown baby. And if I got hooked enough on Jerome to have brown baby #1, it only stands to reason that I would also go for brown baby #2 (or maybe even more!)... Jerome had mentioned that he never planned to stop breeding any woman he possessed, and if the babies became too expensive for my future husband and me to keep, adoption would be the expected option. (I guess I figured he would relent and not TOTALLY turn me into a baby factory!)
Although we lived in sophisticated suburban Boston and not some Southern backwater, or what have you, this kind of thing still would be viewed at least as quite "unusual"--in fact, without me being married to a black man, it would be viewed by others, I am sure, as quite bizarre, and by some certainly as "perverted."
I thought about how, realistically, I could end up shunned by some people. Maybe I would even lose a good chunk of my family and friends to this? Maybe I would lose my own Mom and Dad? Maybe one or more of my siblings?
Yes, that's what seemed most likely. Probably I *would* lose a bunch of people--including people I loved dearly and counted on in my life. Would I gain others? I mean, besides my new Black "owner" and his handful of good pals would I really gain anyone? Jerome had mentioned that he had several friends and associates who owned white women the way that he proposed to own me, and that I could meet some of the other women and make friends. But he also cautioned me that few, if any, of them were as educated and professional as I, so I might not feel like I have that much in common (except of course our sexual needs!).
So probably while my sex life would explode into this new level of satisfaction that I had never before even conceived of, the other parts of my life, my social life and family life, they would shrink.
Could I make that sacrifice?
I went on a lot of long walks over the next week--while Tom remained away and Jerome had me thinking it over. Each walk ended the same way. I had a bittersweet feeling of impending loss--but at the same time soaked panties.
Once I would round the corner and see my apartment building door, the prospect of some relief through self-pleasure would get so great that I could swear that once or twice not only were my panties soaked, but I was almost panting! Only a long session with my new big brown dildo would then take the edge off. After this went on for three or four days--and Tom mercifully was still on the road--I did realize the clear conclusion: I had to do it. I had to go black. I had to let Jerome own me and my pussy (and mouth, rear end, and everything!). Now that I had sample the sexual nirvana of being blacked--at least the nirvana it was like for me..... and even though it would mean some real personal losses.... At the age of 32-and-a-half, I, Sally XXXXXX--clean cut professional white woman from Massachusetts--I would be going all the way Black. There was absolutely no way I could call Jerome and say anything other than "I'm in."
I called up Jerome to tell him. I was excited as I had ever been for a phone call. "Jerome, I've thought it over. I know there will be a lot that will change in my life. I'll have to plan to accept some losses, including probably losing some people who are important to me. But the connection with you and being blacked by you is just too exciting. I have to do it--if you still also want me. Let's do it. Let's have you own my pussy... and I guess the other parts of me, too!" That last part I added a little bit sheepishly, I admit! As turned on as I was, I was also a little bit scared of what I was getting myself into!
"Hey, Sally. Fabulous news! I thought that's what you were going to decide, but I'm glad you took a few days. Absolutely fabulous. I'll be over in an hour so we can celebrate. Why don't you put on some music and pour yourself some wine, and I'll be right there..."
After pausing for a beat, Jerome added, "...Hey, you know what else, actually?... Listen, my buddy Rex from my time in the Marines is hanging out with me tonight... We were catching up and watching the game... He's a good man, and a dear friend... The kind of friend I told you we would include... How would you feel about getting started? It would be VERY special to me if we celebrated your 'Decision Night' with one of my best friends."
I only hesitated for maybe half a second: "Sounds good to me, Jerome... Is there anything special I should do to get ready?" Jerome proceeded to give me some detailed direction to put just some skimpy lingerie and a robe on for him and his friend...
I, too, had already been thinking about this scenario--it was a daydream on most of my walks even! So I had a question ready for him as well: "I've been meaning to ask you, by the way... Would you like me to call you 'Master' when we're in situations with other people? I've been thinking it might turn you on.... And, well, um... It would turn me on, too, actually... And, well, you pretty much are my master now, aren't you?" I cooed.
"Yeah, babe. Sorry I forgot to mention. I got so caught up in the big stuff. Definitely you should call me 'master' or 'sir' in the presence of others. Thanks for catching the vibe. You are special, aren't you?! Damn!! We'll be there in a little bit. You remember your other rules?"
I was getting so excited just talking about him and Rex coming over! I can't remember ever being so turned on from just talking on the phone! "You know, babe, I might not be exactly sure of all the rules... Why don't you email them to me to study later... In the meantime, when you and Rex get here, you can just make me do whatever you want!" And I really meant it! I knew they weren't interested in hurting me--just blacking me... blacking me thoroughly and deeply with their big black cocks!
Jerome added, "One more thing, babe. I'd feel more comfortable in front of my friends being a little nastier than when we're on our own. It's more in my gang's mojo, if you know what I mean... You gonna be okay if we call you 'slut' or 'bitch' or 'whore' or even the c-word?"
I seriously double-loved this! I loved that my new black owner was going to be both sweet and rough, both kind and callous, both gentle and hard. This combination, together with his amazing physique, his rugged handsomeness, and his huge cock--the whole package was exactly why I was so excited for Jerome to own me!
It took me only a minute to get dressed to Jerome's liking. Then I couldn't help but stroke my pussy some while I waited for the two men to come over. I made sure to sit on a little towel that I could quickly throw behind the couch when I would run to answer the door--and that towel was sure going to get wet!
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