My Daughter's Big, Black Boyfriend

My Daughter's Big, Black Boyfriend

A provocative tale of forbidden love, power, and the intoxication of submission

An Interracial Cuckold Tale

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.

My Daughters's Big Black Boyfriend

—Georgia 1968—

It was a fine fall day when I went to the old woman's house. Her husband was off fishing somewhere. Perhaps he was drinking or visiting some young girl and only told her he was fishing. She'd never shown me much charity, but wasn't openly hateful.

So, right off the bat, I dove into my story over iced sweet tea. I'd be dying to tell someone the old biddy would have to do. Some secrets are best shared with someone who doesn't dare say a word about it. They keep your secret for their pride's sake.

****

As you know, my husband has been out of town for the past month. Often, Timmy's business requires him to have extended stays away from me and my daughter. This leaves me alone with our 18-year-old daughter, Summer.

Summer is a headstrong girl and in need of constant attention. It is a rare week we don't discipline her. But as my husband reminds me.

"If she lives under our house, she lives by our rules."

But with Tim gone, it's difficult for me. I work, and she's alone much of the day because school is still a month away. And, as you know, Summer is a willful bitch, and at times she borders on rebellious.

We have a strict rule: no boys at the house unless one of us is there. But with my husband away and me working late, it's impossible to police her on this rule.

The other day, I came home early. I had a splitting headache. I only wanted to lie down in bed and take a nap. When I entered the house, something seemed wrong. There was nothing I could put my finger on, but definitely, something was amiss.

The living room was a mess. Throw pillows were here and there scattered about the floor. Two cans of beer were on an end table, and half-eaten snacks were on plates. I almost called her name.

Something stopped me.

Timmy and I suspected Summer wasn't a virgin. We had no specific reason to think so. Only the general rationale was that times were changing. Perhaps it wasn't common for a girl to be inexperienced at 18. Additionally, you know full well how difficult to deal with summer was, and we assumed she wasn't pure.

At that point, I was pissed and wanted to embarrass her if she and a boy were in her room. As I marched up the stairs, I heard a godawful racket. The squeaking of bedsprings, the banging of the headboard, and gasps, moans, groans, and exclamations of fucking.

Her door was ajar, and I decided I'd watch them. What I saw shocked and thrilled me. How could it? Holy shit, my daughter was fucking a negro boy.

****

Oh, I had her attention. The old witch's face went ashen, and she ground her teeth. Yes, I had her attention and twisted the knife in deep.

****

This boy, no, he wasn't built like a boy. Instead, he was a monstrous-sized fellow. Tall with a massive chest, more than two and a half times her size. Or so it seemed. She's tiny, barely five feet tall. He was well over six feet, all muscles, and looked like a statue of a black Greek god.

He was dark as midnight, hung like a horse, and driving his gigantic prick balls deep inside her in her tiny body. Summer is screaming in a very demanding voice.

"Harder."

Can you imagine she's begging him to fuck her harder? With the bed threatening to break, she wants it harder.

And this young black man was all too happy to oblige. With her legs wrapped around his waist, he hammered into her while she thrust upward to meet him. The man held himself up, hands on the bed, doing fuck ups into my daughter.

That big black cock, splitting her tiny pussy, time and again.

Her hands run over his arms, chest, and back as this stranger, body slams her into the mattress. I had a clear view, and a shock set into me. I watched, unwilling or unable to go in and interrupt them.

His prick was far bigger than any man's penis I'd ever seen.

The truth is, I couldn't help myself. I masturbated and watched. While I watched them fuck, I came twice. It was impossible for me to tell how many times she came. Her legs shook, and her belly rolled as he pounded deep inside her with what appeared to me as loveless fucking.

With my mouth agape, my nipples stiff, and fingers fumbling under my skirt, I soon was in rapture as they fucked. My heart pounded, and I came violently. Flooding my panties and pantyhose. With my free hand clamped over my mouth, I fucked myself with the fingers of my other hand.

Once they finished, I jumped to my feet and rushed into the shower to deal with this situation.

The boy's penis looked twice as big as my husband's. Speaking plainly, I never thought my husband small. But compared to his high school kid, he was. I left them and retreated to my bedroom.

****

Yes, the witch was angry, but her curiosity needed to be satisfied, so she kept her mouth shut. She hung on my words.

****

While they continued to fuck, I took a shower. I could hear the bed, the headboard, Summer's screams, and the boy's grunts. I couldn't help myself in the shower and masturbated again, using the showerhead as I concentrated on the memory of that black boy's penis.

The sounds all faded away.

As I shook through another orgasm, Summer's voice broke into my masturbatory contemplation.

"Mom."

"Yes, Sweetheart. I have a terrible headache. I just rushed up the stairs and jumped into the shower."

"Mommy, are you alright?"

"Yes, mommy's fine. What about you? I thought, for a moment, as I climbed into the shower, I heard you cry out in pain."

"I stubbed my toe," she lied so easily and so well. "I need to go clean the living room. Beth came over, and we sort of made a mess."

"I hadn't noticed." I'm not a half-bad liar myself.

Secrets are difficult things, but I won't talk with her about it. Not yet, at least. The terrible thing about this, I can't stop thinking about that boy's black penis. How big it was. No, how big it is. How it must have felt sliding into her. My daughter's screams echo in my memory—pained and elated shouts of pure rapture.

How lucky she is, I thought.

If Summer's anything to go by...it was heaven fucking that boy. Dear God, Timmy never made me scream. No man has. I don't know what to do. For the rest of the week, I masturbated myself to sleep nightly.

This would displease her father. I can handle him on most things, but this, her fucking a black guy, might not be so easy, as you well know. I would never tell Timmy his daughter fucked a black man. His parents are bigoted, aren't they? And he, as a result, is at least filled with dislike for blacks.

My husband came home, and Timmy and I made love, but it was unsatisfying. He lay atop me, half-heartedly fucked me, and shot his load too fast. I'll give him credit; Tim tried, bless his heart. He was tender, loving, and lasted almost ten minutes.

Rolling off me, he kissed me and settled into the bed. Pulling the covers around him, he snuggled with a blanket, not me.

Kicking my covers off, I mounted his face, clutched his hair, and tightened his face to my twat. For a moment, he protested and fought me. Digging my fingernails into his scalp, I held his lips to my cunt.

"Eat me."

He pushed up, trying to talk, and I took the lobe of one ear between my thumbnail and forefinger. Pushing my nail into the lobe hard, holding his head in place against my pussy lips, and I humped his face.

"Eat me," I said.

It was never difficult to control Timmy. By nature, he was passive. By nurture, his mother made him submissive. In a few moments, Tim dug his cum from my pussy, letting it slide into his throat. I rode his face, fucking his nose, lips, and tongue.

Soon, I climaxed. It rolled through me in waves, and my savory sap added to his cum based meal. I sat on his face for some time, coming down from my high. After all the emotion and energy drained away, I dismounted Tim and turned my black to him.

When he touched my shoulder, I clawed the back of Timmy's hand.

He pulled away and huffed.

"You had your chance earlier."

"Should you spank me?"

"No, not tonight."

"Why?"

"You want me to, and I have no desire to add to your please when you're so dreadfully bad at pleasing me."

There were soft sniffles as he cried himself to sleep. The thought of the black boy's cock flooded my mind, and I took a shower to release the tension, which Timmy hadn't, couldn't, quell.

The following day, at breakfast, Timmy asked if I'd had trouble with Summer while he was away. I thought about telling him I caught her with a boy. But how could? After all, at that point, I hadn't even confronted her, and my thoughts about her and him, more about him than her, jumbled up with my own yearnings.

A vision of his big black cock drifted into my mind as I answered him.

"She said something about a black boy at school. But no trouble."

"I hope to God you told her to steer clear of colored folk. I don't mind them, mind you, but how could I explain it to Mommy and Daddy?"

"Dear heart, you are almost forty-five years old."

"What's your point?"

"Never mind," I said. How can I explain to him a grown man doesn't call his mother and father mommy and daddy?

****

The old woman let out a pained grunt of disgust. Good! She didn't like what she was hearing.

****

It wasn't long, and off on the sales road, Timmy went. Like Dorthy and the yellow brick road, he's looking for his magic way home. A home of wealth and order, where he can be the wizard in his mind. But Timmy was as much a juvenile as his name.

The Wicked Witch of the East made him that way.

He'd always been weak, casually bigoted, and afraid of his place in the world. When he lost his number-one salesman ranking to a black woman, what little confidence he had crumbled. You know his mother pussyfied him from birth, didn't she?

She lorded over him, his father, and tried with me.

But she didn't break me. I didn't fear her disapproval nor crave her acceptance. Ultimately, she grew to respect me, if not love me. When Timothy asked her for advice, she often said, "What does Morgan think?"

He'd answer this or that.

"Well, Timmy, that's what I think too."

It wasn't four months into our marriage that I took all control. I took control of the bedroom the first night and only allowed him an illusion of control by letting him be on top a few times. The issue was he'd shoot his seed in four or five minutes. Sometimes, before he got inside me, he lost his load.

When I was on top, and he lost it, I kept humping until I finished. After a few minutes of grinding my sweet cunny on his prick, he'd get hard again. But that didn't last long. In the end, I'd mount his face. He always fought me but gave in, and I think he loves my control of him.

All that went through my mind, and I hit him with a bombshell.

"If we didn't tell Mummy and Daddy, it wouldn't matter if she saw a black boy. I mean, you say you're not bigoted, right?"

"Well, this is one of those things I'd need to ask her about."

"If you don't tell her he's a black boy, you just ask your mother if she thought it was okay if Summer dated a guy I liked, and you didn't, what would Mummy say?"

"To listen to my wife. But dear, I really am not comfortable with blacks. They scare me."

"But you've got me to protect you."

"Yes, my love, whatever you say."

"Sweetheart, I noticed the suit pants. You went to a strip joint again, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry, Luv, it won't happen again."

"I can't take those to the cleaners. Not with a big cum stain on them. Mind you, an entire suit, three pieces, ruined by a lapdance. You're not able to control yourself. It's pathetic you going to those places for that. Are you fucking whores, too?"

"No, I'd never do that. I'd never have sex with anyone else, you know that."

"I know the fear of being caught with a prostitute would eat you alive if you tried. The fear I'd throw your ass out if the cops caught and charged you. I demand your loyalty to me. And Mommy, oh my god, baby, Mommy would die if she found out you fucked a whore."

The shame consumed him.

I believed he'd not worn a rubber, so I'd find out. His cock was hard and showing now. I continued my verbal assault until precum showed on his suit pants. Reaching down, I ran my fingernails over the outlined prick. Sliding down to his balls, I clutched them like a hound dog biting into a rabbit.

He howled in pain, and thick rivulets of cum flooded from his cock, soaking his pants.

"Such a wretched little fucker, no self-control." Still holding his jewels in a tight grip. "I'll cut them off the next you ruin a pair of suit pants. Clean up, change, and go buy two new suites. I'm removing the cost from your account and transferring the amount into mine."

"Yes, Luv," he said and breathed a relieved sigh as I let go of his balls. "Wait, I'm paying for the suits out of our joint account, and you're taking the same amount for yours?"

"Yes, it's punishment."

"Yes, Luv, I understand."

"Then refrain from seeing strippers anymore." I slapped his face so hard that I left a bruise lasting for days.

And, of course, the day Summer returned to school for her senior year, he was on the road again. I let Summer know her black boyfriend could visit her when I was at home. She had him drop by our house the following Saturday to meet me.

As soon as he got there, they came into the living room. I'd been mulling things over in my mind and had hatched a plan. I'd end Summer's affair with this black boy.

****

The bitch perked up. A smile came over her face, and she leaned forward in her rocker. But I knew she wouldn't be happy with my solution. But I'd let her have her momentary pleasure before whacking her with a hammer.

****

"Mommy, this is Justus," she said. "Justus, this is my mother, Morgan."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Collier."

Standing, I moved toward him with a coldish smile. He flinched when he saw me strolling toward him. Like he thought I might slap his face.

"Don't you ever fuck my daughter in my house again."

The color drained from my daughter's face. She became ashen, and an appearance of horror took hold of her. Tears streamed out of her eyes.

Justus hung his head and seemed to shrink.

"Go to your room, Summer."

"Mother." Her voice was soft, barely audible, and pleading.

"Go."

She ran up the stairs and closed her door. She didn't slam it. She knew she was in deep trouble and didn't risk further angering me. I imagined she was lying on her bed, crying. This was what I hoped she was doing.

I realized with someone as powerful as Justus, he'd have to submit to me voluntarily. Walking around him, I scrutinized his clothed body and juxtaposed it with the image in mind of him fucking my daughter.

Oh, how my twat moistened. When I'd hatched this plot, I can't tell you. But I masturbated to my plan for days at this point.

"Sit in that chair," I said, pointing to an armless, stiffed back chair near the fireplace.

Justus shuffled over, head hung low, shoulders slumped, looking like a beaten boxer. He sat in the seat, casting his eyes at his feet.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I shouldn't have done her that way."

"No, you shouldn't have. Did you think about Summer's reputation? About you being black and her white, it's the South, boy. But you aren't a boy, are you? You're a man and fucking a white girl. That's important to you, isn't it?"

"Things won't always be this way," Justus said.

"Oh, I know, y'all been free for a hundred years. But it isn't accepted, not in Georgia, not around here. Do you really think integration happens and makes everyone like everyone else? What were you thinking?"

"Well, ma'am, I don't know. See, I really Summer, she sweet and cool..."

I held my finger up to my lips to silence him. His eyes widened, and he sat silently as I moved beside him on the couch. Pressing my lips to his ear, I whispered to him.

"Was Summer your first white girl?"

He bobbed his head.

"Was she your first girl?"

Again, he nodded.

"Have you fucked anyone since you started fucking her?"

This time, he shook his head.

"I'm going to sound angry with you and order you out of the house. I'm not mad at you. I want to talk to you someplace else." All the time I'm talking to him, my lips are brushing over the sensitive flesh of his ear, and my warm breath blowing across his flesh. I pressed my body against his side, and I saw his cock swelling through his jeans.

"What about?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"You're going to like it. But you can't tell Summer anything about it. After I cuss you out, you get in your car and dive to Piggly Wiggly. I'll pick you up there in a few minutes. When I call you names, I don't mean them. See, it's just for effect. Do you understand?"

"No, not really."

I squeezed Justus's hand. He turned to me and stared. Pressing his mouth to mine. We kissed.

"Yes, you do," I said.

Standing, I paced back and forth, raising my voice for effect.

"You're an uppity black, playing with fire. That's fine and well for you, but I'll not let you ruin my daughter's reputation. Now, you get your coon ass out of here. Don't you come back here unless you call and ask my permission. And keep your nasty black hands off her at school or anywhere else."

I motioned for him to go and said softly, "Say something angrily and slam the door hard."

"I won't have anything to do with her," he said at the top of his lungs. He stomped out, slamming the door. When he shut the door, he did so with such force the windows rattled. He started his car, gunned the motor, and squealed away.

After changing my clothes, I peek in on my daughter.

"Don't leave the house, and if that BOY is where when I get back, Missy, I'll whip your ass with a belt. You think about what you'll tell your father when I tell him about your taste in boys."

"Mommy, you can't," she said, begging me. "Please, Mommy, don't tell him."

"I'm going to talk to Irene about this situation," I told her and didn't answer her pleadings. She had to be worried. Irene and her husband threw their daughter out when they caught her seeing a negro. That's what you'd do, isn't it, old woman?

She now lives in sin, on the wrong side of town, with her black boyfriend, her belly swollen with his bastard child. They barely scrape by, and everyone believes she'll be walking the streets as soon as she can after the child is born.

In this state, they can't marry, and he dropped out of high school years before. He works as a delivery boy. Even his parents refused to allow them to live under their roof. Hate runs both ways in this world.

I stopped in front of his car when I pulled into the parking lot. Shit, he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Jumping out of the car, looking sort of startled, he came and got into my vehicle. Since he wasn't a stupid boy, I expected him to take control, or at least try to.

He climbed into the passenger seat, his head hung low.