“Fuck a white baby into me, Daddy,” she said, gasping in hot exhalations against his ear.

Ebony and ivory entwined in the seamy sweat and juice soaked sheets of the Hilton Hyatt.

Daniel grabbed the back of Qamala’s head and pulled her in for a deep passionate kiss.

Qamala’s tongue play, a feverish darting forcing, caused him to stop his heavy thrusting.

It was there they laid for five minutes, locked, kissing and embracing.

Dan slid out of her and they spooned, skin tones and ages contrasting.

At 42, he no longer wondered how he could last through their marathon raw-dogging fuck-fests.

She had the body to light a raging inferno of white-hot lust.

So hot it burned away the years.

Daniel pulled his face away from hers.

He stroked her sharp little shin and her slender neck.

He loved how his milk-white skin contrasted to her coffee-colored complexion.

“Okay, birthday girl, let Daddy have his fun.”

Qamala took his hand and put it on her throat.

“Tell me what a worthless darkie whore I am, Dan. Abuse my nigger body.”

He squeezed her throat, a present for her 20th birthday. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of your dirty nigger cunt.”

Qamala grabbed her ankles, “Yes, master,” and pulled her legs wide as he re-entered her dark gash.

As he moved slowly in and out of her, memory assailed him.


The last time he fucked Jenna, his wife, 38 years old, she was still debating having a child.

Now that time was running short.

The time to answer the call of nature, that ever-ticking clock, that insurmountable problem in their six years of marriage.

Dan would ask, “Let’s try before we both get older.”

“Dan, I love you, but I’m just not sure if I want the responsibility. Our life is good as it is.”

Dan looked around their squared-away McMansion hell.

Laying in bed the previous year, she relented and said, “I’ve been praying on it. We can try.”

Jenna massaged his balls and stroked the shaft of his cock.

A move that surprised Dan.

It grew erect, and when it was hard enough, she mounted his semi-rigid member and moved her hips back and forth.

He could still see it: her exaggerated breathing, her slow and steady movements as she moaned in a soft voice, “Dan.”

Over and over again.

A name said so many times, first with a note of excitement on their wedding night when he first came inside her from behind.

Jenna would not do doggy afterwards.

Now she was in her favorite lovemaking position: riding his dick.

She straddled him looking down into his eyes, hers smiling and cold.

He was glad when she threw her head back and put her effort into her hips.

Like now, moaning, saying his name softly, the Lifetime Channel version of titillating.





The only time he doesn’t cringe inwardly when she says her name.

“Dan, we have to go to dinner at the Williamses on Saturday.”

“Dan, we have to see my parents next month.”

“Dan, my niece’s high school graduation is at the end of the year. We have to go.”

It was always, “Dan, we have to…”

Never could he say, “Jenna, we have to have a family.”

38, he watched her on top.

Gone was the welcoming-wagon pert body, replaced by a nice sheath of fat and stretch marks.

In between her breaths and moans of “oh, Dan,” he could imagine, “Oh, Dan, we have to have a baby finally.”

A year of trying.

She insinuated things.

Dan got tired of watching her sway above him and grabbed her hips and pounded from beneath until a sharp spasm burst from his the base of his cock and he sent his sperm on its fruitless mission.

“She insinuated things,” he thought as she got up, a thick white stream of his jizzum dripping out of her pink pussy lips.

Tomorrow, same time, same place. That is, if he agreed to one of her “Dan, we have to…” propositions.


Dan’s frustration had pushed him to seek an outlet.

Kinks for everything: bondage, race play, rape play, DDLG, breeding, forced creampies, femdom, cuckolding (he thought of seeing if a bull could loosen up Jenna).

Qamala was seeking on a Reddit forum for dirty pen pals.

It was a new, wonderful feeling.

Being able to spit out the most raw and unfiltered shit to a willing participant.

Qamala encouraged him, then gave him her Kik handle.

“Tell me what a nigger I am, Daddy. I want to be a white man’s trophy wife.”

She showed him her bimbofication work.

He “confessed” how he was looking to breed.

They sexted on Kik for weeks before he paid for the plane ticket, and another, and another.

The pandemic had given Qamala a lot of free time and dropped the price of airfare.

He remembered when he first met her at the airport hotel, slim waist, toned high, and tight ass—no ghetto booty bullshit there—and a Pamela Anderson rack.

Her hair straightened, dyed blonde, and worked until was as soft as flax. She had put in a major effort.

Qamala always locked eyes. Enthralled in the embrace of passion, she never looked away.

Now Dan made each thrust with determination, watching her dark ample breasts shake in time with each wet smack.

She pulled her legs back, further angling her pelvis toward his hips.

“Give me your baby, Daddy. Fuck my disgusting race out of existence.”

People had looked at them when they went shopping.

A couple of nigger bucks tried to give them a hard time. A time when Dan’s three-times-a-week boxing sessions came in handy.

Not that Qamala didn’t love his endurance as much as she loved his violence.

“I’m the only real man you’ve fucked, a real man, not like those monkeys you knew in high school.”

“Use me, you’re the only man I’ve had. FUCK THE MONKEY OUT OF ME, DADDY!” she twerked and screamed as her WAP juices pooled and soaked the mattress.

Dan seized her tits and squeezed hard; the corded muscles on his forearms and chest stood out.

She let go of her ankles and wrapped her legs around his hips in an anaconda squeeze. She ground up hard against him.

And he nutted.




Without restraint.

Completely raw.

Dan ejaculated in long hard squirts.

Ribbons of semen shot into Qamala.

“I love when you fuck the filthy nigger out of me, master. Your empty vessel is full,” she whispered in between passionate post-coital kisses.

Dan panted and shuddered. “I love you, Qamala. I love you, Qamala.”

They spooned until she boarded the plane later that day, filled to the brim.


A month later, Dan was stuck listening to Jenna prattle on over breakfast about her work friend Jennifer’s upcoming birthday party.

“So we’re supposed to meet them at 7PM at the Chophouse brewpub.”

Dan felt hollow; this morning Jenna had her period.

Another month of failing to conceive.

A real shame.

Might be the only original thing Jenna could do.

Dan kissed Jenna goodbye for the day and drove his Lexus downtown.

He was lost in thought, putting his mind into the busy day he had ahead of him.

When his phone vibrated; Qamala texting him over Kik.

“Sometimes that girl’s sex drive is too much,” he cursed.

“Congratulations, Daddy, you’re a daddy. :) Thank you!”

He nearly had an accident.