A Warning to White Husbands
A Warning to White Husbands
Appreciated what you have. That is the lesson that I hope to pass on to those of you who read this. What I relay to you in my text is not a glamorous story, something that I am proud of, nor is it an erotic tale. I am taking the time to write about what happened to me as a warning to the other white husbands may be heading down the same path that I have walked. There are seemingly so many white men cruising the internet seeking and reading tales of the cheating white wife, wives gone black, and cuckolded husbands. Those of you reading this take my story for what it is intended - as a warning. The realization and reality of the wish for a Black Stud (or anyone else for that matter) to sex or breed your wife can be very harsh. What follows is what I recently experienced.
My wife and I are in our early 40s. We had been married for 20 years and had a very strong marriage. We had both been faithful to each other since we met immediately after college. We dated only a few months before becoming engaged, and we married about a year later. My wife was an attractive, shy, and seemingly innocent young woman when I met her. We were instantly drawn to each other and have been inseparable since we met. After I had already fallen for her, but before we were engaged, I learned that prior to meeting me she had dated several Black Men while she was in college. Worse yet, that she had been impregnated by one and had his child. She gave him custody of this child, and she never saw the child again.
When I learned of her past, I was quietly disturbed by these facts. Where I grew up, white women dating Black Men was heavily frowned upon. If my friends of family learned of my future wife’s past, they would view her in an unfavorable light. I also feared what they would think of me for loving a woman who had sexed and been bred by Black Men. As I have stated, I had already fallen for her. I followed my heart and acted as if it was not a big deal. We loved each other – and we both had pasts. I told her that we should keep her past our secret. Of course, her family already knew the story, but it was not something that they ever spoke of. That obstacle out of the way, we married and lived our lives together happily for many years – until last year.
I do not understand the exact reason why, but about two years ago, I started to become obsessed with my wife’s past with Black Men. Maybe it was because I had a lot of time on my hands since I was between jobs. During this time, my self-confidence began to wane. For reasons still unknown to me, I started thinking about her having that Black child. I began to sulk about us, after all these years, not having any children of our own. I felt inadequate and started to believe that my wife was secretly thinking of her former Black Lovers during our increasingly less frequent sex sessions.
A factor in why I may have begun to have these thoughts is that a few years after we married, we discovered that I am medically unable to have children. Still, despite this, my wife never complained and stayed with me. She did this even though I know she very badly wanted to have a family. Her loyalty and faithfulness to me should have made me value her more, but I was too self-absorbed. She had always stood by me. I think that my loss of self-confidence during my layoff, the surplus of time, and my idle mind set the conditions for the disaster that followed.
After we re-located to a new city in order for me to start my next career, I was sent on an extended business trip out of town by my new company. I had a lot of time on my hands during the evenings, and found myself surfing interracial web sites and adult yahoo groups. The more I read of these white women being sexed and want wanting to be bred by Black Man, the more I became insecure and angry about my wife’s past. I cannot explain or justify these feelings, but I can only tell you that is what I felt. Eventually and gradually more increasingly, I began exchanging email with members on these sites. Specifically, I sought out Black Men and began to ask them if they would be interesting in sexing or breeding my wife.
I received responses from most of the Black Men I wrote to. Some of the responses were very over the top, and I knew my wife would never go for them. I also received a few extremely polite responses which indicated discretion on the part of this pool of Black Men. One in particular, Michael, stood out and seemed especially promising. He was not pushy, was intelligent, and he lived about an hour from us. He was close enough to do what I fantasized about but not too close to be suffocating.
Over time, I relayed to him many details about my wife and out relationship. I
told him that I would be away from home for several months and that he would
have ample opportunity to gradually gain my wife’s confidence and ultimately
hopefully turn her back to Black. He understood the need for discretion and that
I did not want her to know that I was behind this. I provided him my wife’s
email address and a cover story to make contact with my wife. I was excited
about the prospect and thought his chances of bedding my wife were good.
He emailed her with a simple note which informed her that he was a polite, nice, Black Man and he asked her if she was interested in exchanging emails with him. Eventually, Michael wrote me and stated that she did not reply. He asked me for more details to help him get a response. I eagerly did as he asked, and I waited. I did not hear back from Michael for about two weeks. His next response would be a big wake up call for me.
Early one morning, I anxiously checked my email from my hotel room. My heart pounded with anticipation when I saw a note from him. This could be good news. I opened the email. What I read gave me chills. While Michael had learned a great amount of personal information regarding me, my wife, what I asked him to do to my white wife; I had absolutely no idea of who Michael really was or what his background was. I did not know that much about computers and the internet. I did not realize that on the internet he had access to and could use an anonymous email account, remailers, and IP tracker while corresponding with me.
Although I had not provided him our last name telephone number, or home address, I had relayed to him our first names, city we currently lived, where we had lived, exactly what my wife looked like, her likes and dislikes, and other information that could be used to piece together who my wife and I really are, where we lived, and where we work. With the information I had provided him and that he could easily find on his own, it was only a matter of him doing a bit more work on the internet to uncover who we really are. I never saw this coming.
Michael’s email hit me like a sledgehammer, as the email addressed me by my full real name and he also used my wife’s real full name in the email. Some of what he wrote, “You asked me to sex and breed your prim and proper suburban white wife. These are your words. I will use them against you. Deliver her to me while you are still on your trip. Find a way or I will ruin your lives. I own you both. You asked me to do this you white fool. I will teach a prejudice, white man (you, your words fool) lessons in race relations. Write me back today, or I will send all the emails we have exchanged to your wife, neighbors, and place of employment.”
I sat at the desk in my hotel room in a cold sweat. Strangely, while in a state
of shock and terror, I was also somewhat aroused. Michael certainly was in
control, much like I had fanaticized about. However, the arousal was
short-lived, as reality began to sink in. Michael, this Black Man, who had had
begged to sex my wife was in complete control of the situation. I was totally at
his mercy. He had done a lot of work gathering facts and setting me up.
Admittedly, I had made it far too easy for him to do so. He appeared deadly
serious, and I was not about to call his bluff.
I had few options available to me. Having my wife’s past exposed to our friends and especially to my family would cause my wife extreme embarrassment and shame. I could not afford any sort of scandal – real or not - at my new company. I did not see ignoring Michaels’s threat as an option. Eventually, I determined that I needed to call my wife and explain the situation to her. I knew that she would be angry, hurt, and disappointed in me, but I believed that this option gave us the most control in an out of control situation.
I called my wife and explained what I had done. She reacted as I expected. When she regained her composure, she asked me what I thought we should do next. I told her that she should answer Michael’s original email and tell him that she would like to get to know him. At first, she resisted, but she could not offer another solution. Both of us wanted to keep the past in the past, and this seemed to be the only way to do this now that I had made a mess of our lives. She agreed to answer him and to put me on the information line of the email.
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I was later informed by my wife that Michael had replied to her the same day, but that he took my email address off of the email. He told her that what they discussed was none of my business and that she was not to include me in their exchanges or conversations. He already had our unlisted phone number. He called her after sending her the email reply. All I know for sure is that they spoke for over an hour and that Michael made arrangements to travel to our town during the upcoming weekend to meet my wife in person.
My wife was rightfully scared and nervous to meet him, but he had done his best to put her at ease. She did not tell me much, but she wanted me to have a basic idea of what was going on – for the purpose of her safety. They were going to meet for dinner at a nearby Casino on an Indian Reservation. It is a nice place that my wife enjoys. They would also be doing some dancing there. Previously, I had told Michael that my wife enjoys dancing, but I never take her. I also told her that she does not drink often but likes wine. He told my wife what he wanted her to wear, exactly how to wear her long blonde hair for him, and he told her to be sure to wear her wedding ring. My wife had three days to prepare and wait for her “date” with Michael. That is all that I would learn about the events and preparation for their future encounter.
I sat in my hotel room anxious beyond description. I was truly powerless. I
could do nothing to help my wife through this mess that my own selfishness had
created. She was justifiably furious with me – and very hurt by my
thoughtlessness and actions. I knew that there was nothing that I could say or
do to make the situation better. My wife, the woman I had loved for more than
two decades, was now at the mercy of a complete stranger. When I started down
this path which I perceived as “erotic,” I would have written that this
helplessness was “what I wanted.” However, now that I was actually experiencing
complete powerlessness and hearing my wife’s tears, shame, and the fear in her
voice – I was literally ill.
My wife called me on Saturday before she left the house. She was upset but doing her best not to cry and make her make up run. I told her that I was very sorry and that I loved her. She said that she knew that, but that she did not know if she could ever forgive me for putting us in this situation. She told me that Michael told her that she could keep her cell phone with her to give her a sense of safety, but not to take any calls from me while they were together. With those words, she hung up the phone. I sat alone in my hotel room and waited to hear back from her.
Hours passed. I resisted the urge to call my wife, not wanting to make the
situation worse than it already was for her. My imagination ran wild thinking
about the things that Michael could be doing to my sweet, lovely wife. I felt
overwhelming regret for what I had do. As the clock passed midnight sleep was
out of the question. After what seemed like a lifetime, it was dawn: still no
phone call. I cold no longer resist. I called her number. There was no answer.
In a panic, I was now beginning making plans to get back home to check on her.
As I did so, I received a text message which read: “Do not worry. I am alright.
I will call you tomorrow.”
I questioned to myself the authenticity of the text message, but what could I really do? Call the police and tell them what was going on? I had no evidence that my wife did not send the message herself or that she was being harmed. The reality of the situation was that any risk she faced was completely of my doing. I spend another day of torture in my hotel room alone – waiting. By this point, I could not help myself from calling her number with increasing frequency, but to no avail. It would ring and go to her voice mail.
Late Sunday evening, I finally received a call from my wife’s cell phone. It was
a man’s voice. I can only assume the voice was Michael’s. He told me to not to
say a word and to listen. Concerned about my wife’s safety, I did as he ordered.
“You are a selfish fool white boy. You couldn’t be satisfied knowing that your wife loved you and wanted to be faithful to you. You did not appreciate her years of loyalty and devotion to you. You had to dwell on the past. Because of your weakness and insecurity you placed her in a compromising position to bail your sorry ass out. I hope that you are happy now. This is what you wanted.”
The phone went silent, but the connection was still good. I heard some unclear sounds. After a few seconds I heard the man’s voice again. He said, “Open your mouth bitch and suck my Black Cock.” I then heard sucking, slurping, and gagging noises for the next 10 minutes. My heart pounded, and sank as I realized what my wife was doing.
“That’s right slut, milk my Black Cock bitch,” the man said. “Suck it. Suck it deep. Yeah, that’s right. Nice. You little white cocksucker. That’s right, take it deep bitch.”
Next, I heard a bunch of thrashing noises followed by, “I’m ready now bitch. I‘ve got a monster load to plant inside you. Get on your back bitch. Spread those nice legs for me. Yeah, just like that. You want my Black Cock again don’t you? I’m gonna bust my nut in you again bitch. You want it again don’t you? Tell me what you want slut.”
For the first time in two days, I heard my sweet wife’s voice, “Please babe, please I want your Black Cock so bad. Please, please give it to me again. Put it inside me – please babe. You own my pussy. Let me feel it inside again. Ooooooh, yeeeesssss. Like that babe! Give it to me! I love your Black Cock. I love it, I love it. Push it babe! Ooooooh!”
The line abruptly went dead. I frantically called back. What I hoped to accomplish by doing so, I don’t know for sure. Waiting all that time to hear from my wife, worrying about her, and then hearing her sucking and fucking Michael was confusing than could ever have imagined. Fantasizing and writing about my wife screwing Black Men was one thing. Genuinely being concerned about our future, her safety, and then hearing her having sex with Michael and begging him for his Black Cock was not the experience that I believed it would be when I started down this path.
I felt more ashamed of myself than I had ever been in my entire life. I compromised my wife’s trust, our marriage, and our relationship. Whether or not she was “enjoying” or “not really enjoying” the fucking that she was getting was irrelevant. She was only there because I was weak. Michael made a great point why could I not have just been happy with what I HAD, because, from this day forward, things would be different.
My wife would never look at me the same loving, trusting way that she had for the more than 20 years we had known each other. She would never again regard me as her “protector” or as “her man.” In her eyes, I would now forever been a weak-minded, insecure, white man who never truly believed in her and in our relationship and our marriage. I will never forget the disappointment in me that was in her eyes when next met -- weeks later when I returned from my business trip. I let her down, and I will have to live with that the rest of my life.
As for her and Michael, beyond that phone call, I have never seen of heard them together again. I have no idea how many times he fucked her while I was away, or since I have been back in town. When I finally came home, she told me, “what is done is done” and that I would not have to worry about my precious “reputation” or concern about what my family and friends might think about her past. She made her position perfectly clear: I created this situation and will have to live with it. When and what she does with Michael or anyone else is none of my business, and she will not discuss it any further with me.
After this experience what have I gained? I am left with the same wild imagination and thoughts that I had before about my wife, but I no longer have my wife in my life. Last month, she filed for divorce. I am not contesting it, and I am giving her everything that she is asking for. Michael has given her all of my emails that I sent to him asking him to sex and even breed my wife. There is no way that I want those entered into the public record during our divorce case.
I will share a coupe more facts with you: I have not had any intimate or sexual contact with my soon-to-be former wife since her first encounter with Michael; on her right ankle, she now wears a gold ankle bracelet with a small spade on it; and after her weekend with Michael I have no definite proof if she is still seeing him or perhaps other Black Men now. She does not share those details with me. So much for the “erotic” experience that I sought. Again, what have I gained besides loosing the one that I loved?
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