Flirting with the BNWO

SERENA STEELE MONROE

An Ollie and Linda Tale

FLIRTING with the BNWO

© Copyright 2025 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously--any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Flirting with the BNWO

Present Day

My name is Oliver, but most people call me Ollie. I've been married to Linda for almost five years. She's 26 and I'm 28. My parents, and Linda's parents, are wealthy--filthy rich, Linda would say, when she didn't care that I could hear. But what she should've said was they were filthy from getting rich. All white wealth is nasty and was obtained by terrible means.

We come from the kind of family that people speculated about. The average person read about us in the news and the late-night shows as overpaid comedians made jokes about how undeserved our riches were. And the minorities believe people like us got rich by trampling on their rights. And yes, they are right.

I wanted to tell everyone I agreed with them, but it would never matter. I hadn't the courage to say it loud enough. Even if I did, they'd never hear. When you live at the top, your voice can't reach the bottom, not even when you're shouting. Unless you're their conquered, and you said in a flash of lightning with all the accompanying thunder to shatter their souls. That wasn't me. The way the masters talked to their slaves.

Besides, I'd never yelled at anyone but sometimes myself. Sometimes, I begged Linda to understand.

Ours was the kind of wealth that even other rich people envied. The kind that builds and devours itself and multiplies again and again. I was embarrassed, constantly embarrassed. I was humiliated, always feeling like I needed to apologize for our easy lives. To atone for the fact that our house was the size of a hotel, that we profited from others' sufferings, and that we descended from slave-owner whites of yesteryear. I was humbled by the fact that if she wanted, Linda could buy a whole row of designer stores instead of just one outfit from each.

We are blessed or cursed with the wealth that insulates us from the necessity to understand we're not that special. Where we're not burdened with the guilt that should accompany how the money was earned. Only I was, am, and always will be guilty and feel it in the pit of my darkened soul. The darkness inside whites is so much darker than the beautiful ebony flesh of the majestic black people of the world.

These little troublesome things didn't bother Linda as much as they did me. I've lived with it in a different way than her. My parents are actual racists. While her's were only passively racist and had no guilt for their good fortune.

Their bigotry changed me. So, it wasn't Linda's fault she couldn't see evil in the white race.

She was who she was--raised with the expectation of affluence and power and knowing no other way to be. Sometimes, I wished I could feel the same. But that is the definition of entitled. Being so wealthy, the suffering of others doesn't affect you. Maybe I was, once, the same as her. And perhaps that's why the guilt swelled inside me until it was as big as the houses we called our homes.

I gave to causes. Causes were all I had to offer. Causes like Black Lives Matter, the NAACP, the BYP, and half a dozen other organizations working to help people who would never be, could never be, people my parents would admire. Even though they were superior in every way to my mom, dad, in-laws, Linda, and me.

This was my world from the time I realized why our wealth was wrong. I wanted to give more. But there were limits, and I could see them all. A world of limits stretched ahead of me with nowhere to run but into another family vacation or a protest, I had no right to join.

When Linda and I married, it was merging two business empires. Ungodly wealth heaped up and pushed down on the two of us like a sin of covetousness multiplied and squared.

Everyone said I was so lucky to have landed someone as gorgeous and generous as her. She's the one who did all the work, they said. Linda was the one who gave me something special to come home to, and it was true. It was always true, and I'd always known it. From the beginning, I wanted to make her happy in the same way, to offer something different.

Therefore, from the beginning, I insisted we try and pay back those who'd been wronged by the white race. Believing one way, which would thrill me, was to see her with another man from another race. Especially a well-endowed black man.

One night in bed, I came clean with Linda.

"I'd love to watch you in bed with someone besides me. To be honest, I'd like it to be a black man. Why? Because I've always respected the Black race for how they've endured. For everything they've gone through. I confess to you I've always known I'm inferior to them. We whites are all inferior to them." I said. "Can't you and I pay them for the sins of our race just a little."

"No, dear," Linda said, laughing and rolling away from me. "You have such silly notions."

I persisted, night after night. But no matter how much I pushed it or how many angles I came from, Linda always said no.

"No, and no, and no, and why would you want that, Ollie, and what would it change," she asked. She wasn't afraid to be honest with me, never had been, so she'd said, "I don't see the point. I'm not looking to sleep with anyone else. You're more than enough in bed. You're plenty. You're what I want."

And I believed her. Because she never gave me any reason not to. I told myself it was okay, that she didn't have to. But still, I would bring it up, and still, she would say no.

Maybe, I thought, I wasn't clear enough. I'd come at it from another direction. "Listen," I said and proceeded with a new mansplaining. "I know what I want, what would make me happiest. That's for you to be happy, to be with someone like I could never be. Someone more of a man than me."

She'd laugh, and the answer stayed the same.

I can be very stubborn when I want to be. So I kept bringing it up, at first all the time and then less. When it was clear she wouldn't budge, the subject was discussed less and less.

When I brought it after months of nothing, she didn't get mad. Linda never gets angry. I guess that's one of the things I love about her. It's hard to say. I have my faults, and sometimes, the rest of the world seems very distant. Maybe I'm misinterpreting.

But when she gave me the same answer over and over, when time passed, and it became a familiar and quiet little joke between us, I couldn't help myself. I tried other angles, told myself, with the right mix of logic and love and timing, I could convince her.

That was me, a shy coward, convinced that everyone else knew what they were doing. That's why, when Linda and I took a trip to Jamaica, I didn't expect much of anything. We needed time alone as a couple. Without family around or projects, I pretended to care about our money and position. Linda didn't seem worried I'd have any strange ideas about who we'd meet.

The truth is, I almost didn't. I'd mostly stopped thinking about it by the time we packed our bags and left. But once we were there, once I was on a new, foreign, and vibrant piece of land, it came back. Small, quiet, in my head, whispering possibilities into the little place where I'd let myself believe things would change.

I didn't say anything to Linda at first, didn't want her to suspect. Then again, what if she did? Maybe if she knew, she'd surprise me, I thought or hoped. She was full of surprises, and I had a few surprises myself.

Though most of them she knew already.

That's why it was a surprise. A genuine surprise when a Jamaican man joined us at the private hotel beach. From the corner of my eye, I saw him looking. Staring at her a lot. And not just at her in general, but at her body, from the tips of her bare toes to the top of her blonde head. Even more shocking, Linda watched him, too. Pretending she wasn't, but I could tell.

I always knew when Linda appreciated men looking at her. But this time, it was more than evident when the crotch of her bikini showed a wetness.

This man was tall and well-built and dark and handsome. He was Black, interested, and something in me that I'd almost forgotten leaped back to life. Not only did it turn me on, but immediately, I hoped we could give him a special gift. That first day, watching him glancing at her faith took wings.

It's always the first time that counts. I almost forgot where I was for a minute. Almost let my guard down, but not enough. I had another idea.

What the hell, I thought. If I let it happen naturally, what's the worst thing?

I did what I never thought I'd do. I walked over and offered this dark stranger a beer.

"My name is Badrick," he said. Then Badrick explained he was staying at the hotel because he didn't want to leave Jamaica for his vacation.

His reasoning made Linda laugh. Which is how I knew she was warming to him. I know her well, after all. I've been married to her for five years. She sat up in her beach chair and asked me to adjust it. I did. She leaned toward him, eyes dilated and returned to normal. She rested her chin on her hand, with her elbow on the chair's arm, and just gazed into his eyes while he talked.

I know when she's flirting, even a little. He was flirting with her, too, and we talked for about an hour before he left us, and we went our own way. I had to know if it was real, had to ask. Over lunch, I started the conversation with a casual tone because I can do casual when I'm trying very hard.

"Hey, did you like that guy?"

"No," she said. "Not at all. Badrick was a nice guy, but nothing else."

Nothing else, she was fucking flirty. Linda's apparent disinterest stung more than I thought it would. More than I expected it to after I'd given up after I'd let it go. But I was determined. I didn't want to give her a chance to tell me no again without hearing me out.

"I've told you this before, but hear me out," I said. "You know, Black people have been really mistreated for centuries."

"What's that got to do with anything?" she asked.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard it, but it was the first time I'd ever given her an answer.

"I believe we, as whites, owe them, don't you?"

Her eyes grew wide, wide and lovely, and exasperated.

I couldn't stop myself. I was so close, closer than I'd been in years. I pressed my luck.

"I was thinking, as a way of reparation for my and your families having owned slaves, you might make love to him."

And she laughed. She laughed louder than I'd ever heard from her and then stopped.

"Oh, really," she said. "Is that why you've been pushing to cuckold you with a Black guy?"

"Yes," I said. It was a little above a whisper, and then I said it again so she'd be sure. So she'd know I meant it. "Yes."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Hell, yes."

"How is it my fault?" she asked.

"You're white, you're filthy rich, to use you're term. You come from generations of wealth, and your family, like mine, owned slaves. Whites have always had it better than any of the colored people of the world. They, our forebearers, held them down. We owe the blacks of the world."

"Hum," she said. I was sure she'd say no, give me the same answer, and tell me again how lucky I was. And maybe I was. But she didn't say no, she didn't say anything, she ate her salad.

But I dropped it anyway. Because I wasn't as brave as I needed to be. Not fucking yet. Like a hot potato, I dropped it. I observed her as carefully as I knew how to be, and I could see the wheels turning in her head, thinking about what I'd said.

A few days later, Linda and I went out for drinks at a nightclub in the city. After spending some time there, we ran into Badrick again. We had been on vacation for four days, and she hadn't mentioned what I said about reparations. I noticed it, the lack of mentioning my idea or dismissing it. Oddly, it gave me a kind of hope. Something I'd buried a long time ago. But in four days, I had fleeting moments of expectancy.

Despite that, I worried that if I brought it up again, she'd say no. So I didn't. That was a strategy, not a coward's way out.

My not mentioning worked. I was sure of it.

By the time we met Badrick that night, by the time he waved us over from across the bar, and Linda didn't look at me to see if she should wave back. I was more than sure she would.

Linda saw him first, not just because I'm bad at noticing things. I think she knew I wanted her to. I believe it was all part of the plan, my plan. Or her plan. I longed for it to be her plan. It was loud inside the club. Linda hates it when things are noisy.

She didn't care about the local flavor when the local flavor meant Linda must shout to be heard, but she stayed. She stayed because of him. Because she knew the trip was important to me. To us, and because I was sure my plan was working.

Badrick had claimed a table near the back. Linda headed there as soon as he signaled. While I took my time. I had to know. I had to see. The closer I got, the more I saw that things had changed in a day, night, and a few hours' worth of silent consideration.

The way she smiled. The way her hair framed her neck in a picture-perfect moment that didn't care I was looking. He poured her a drink and handed it over without asking. As if Badrick knew she would want it, she took it without thinking or hesitation.

They laughed.

Like they were a couple, the two of them leaned across the table and laughed. When she saw me approach, I caught a glimpse of that same smile Linda wore all afternoon. This time, I was sure of something else. She meant it, and it wasn't just for me.

Linda was never one to flaunt. Well, not when she didn't think it was safe. And when she thought it was safe, when she felt secure and bold, it was another reason for me to love her.

Badrick did all the right things. Said all the right things. So, by the time I settled next to her and asked if he minded, Badrick, I mean, she'd taken two gulps of the drink. She looked at me like it was her turn to be surprised. She hadn't expected me to ask to sit with my wife.

He didn't mind.

An answer was so obvious I didn't need to hear it. Hell, I didn't need to ask. But I had to, just to be sure I wasn't missing something. Just to be certain, I'd read it right. We were in a corner between the hall on the left, leading to the bathrooms and storage, and a wall to the right. The only table in that part of the club and just off the dance floor.

They were flirty and touchy-feely with each other again. More so this time. A lot more so. Badrick wasn't rude toward me, but he didn't care that I understood he wanted to fuck my wife. He might even realize I wanted him to fuck Linda.

Badrick called me man, and when he said it, I almost believed it was true. Linda was relaxed, maybe because she'd finally got me to relax. I don't know. It's hard to tell sometimes.

We were there for almost an hour, and they kept touching, fondling one another with little cuddles. Touching each other's hands, which, at first, they pretended was accidental. Linda pretended it annoyed her. Until she relaxed enough to pretend nothing at all. Bold enough to hug him and give him love pecks on his lips.

When the conversation stopped making sense. When they whispered, so soft and low, I couldn't understand. Maybe because the music, the smoke, or whatever else filled the bar too much, or my hearing wasn't good enough. I looked around and saw something even better than when I'd offered him a beer on the beach. Everyone stared, and everyone knew exactly what was happening. This was deliciously humiliating, stimulating, and degrading in equal amounts.

It was the first time I felt I'd given back something to a black man.

Linda also understood what was going on. She knew, and she wanted it. By the end of the hour, we were down on the dance floor. The three of us, and then the two of them and I returned to the table. Faking, I was finishing the drinks but actually just finishing a moment and savoring my disgrace.

It felt like I should. It seemed to me that I had to, so I did. And as they danced, they stayed near the edge of the floor, where everyone could see. Even though the crowd pressed in, there wasn't much space for anyone, and they managed to keep people from closing them off. It was the opposite. Everyone kept their distance, watching as Linda and Badrick went through the motions.

The two of them put on a show. At first, they were doing it to be seen. That was how Linda was. That was how I imagined Badrick was, too. Badrick told everyone he was taking this white man's wife, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it. Linda enjoyed his attention, and I believed she loved it, which pleased me.

We left the club when the music grew faster and hotter. When the pitcher was done, and I thought they might be too ready to wait longer.

"It's time," I said. It was the first thing I said in almost twenty minutes. But they heard it. I wanted to give them space to see what would happen. I so wanted to see if Linda had really been thinking about my offer.

"Okay," she said, running her hands over him.

I wasn't sure if she meant the word for me or him. I didn't fucking care.

"We'll share an Uber," she said. It was the first time in our marriage Linda ever suggested sharing anything with a stranger. "I'd hate for you to walk when we can ride together, Badrick." Standing on her tippy-toes, she kissed him on his lips and slipped her tongue into his mouth. They stood there, making out like teenagers, while I texted for the service.

The Uber was small. Smaller than she expected. Much smaller than she would have liked if the trip were just the two of us.

"Baby, why don't you sit in front," she said. Nudging me like she didn't know I would love it. Just a normal trip back from the club to the hotel. From wherever else she thought it might be to wherever else she wanted to be.

"This way," she said, "I can talk with him. I have so much I want to share and learn."

It was so obvious what she meant. So extremely obvious and delicious. She smiled when she said it. Linda always has a smile when she wants to surprise me. She knew exactly what she was doing.

The backseat of the Uber was not big. Badrick was big, though. He was so big that Linda had to sit closer than she'd ever sat with anyone but me. She had to hug his side like there was nowhere else she could fit, leaving a foot and a half between her and the door. This time, she didn't mind at all that this was my fantasy. And I was confident it had become hers as well.

I watched through the rearview mirror, the drivers, and then one on my visor. When the headlights flashed across his face and onto hers, I saw what she had never let me see before. What I wanted to see from the start. The thing was, she wouldn't give in if she thought I'd drop it. She gave me more than I hoped for when she realized I never would.

I saw the lust in her eyes for someone other than me.

They murmured, just to each other. Softly, to be sure, I'd strain to hear them. Clear enough to be sure, I couldn't help but hear the flirting. At one point, when we hit a patch of open road between the city and the hotel, Linda let her hand fall on his lap, right on his package. It was the most natural thing in the world.

As if it were something she'd been doing for longer than she'd known me. When Badrick shifted, his hand fell on hers. It stayed there, the two of them motionless and pretending nothing had happened. Pretending I wasn't watching but not fooling anyone. Not even the driver could keep his eyes on the road, frequently glancing at the mirror.

I watched them, and it felt longer than our vacation's first half. I wasn't mad. How could I be? They held each other's hands, and for the first time, it was exactly what I wanted. She was surrendering to the idea we owed the blacks something. And this something was her.

For the first time, I was getting what I'd asked for. What I'd begged for and tricked myself into believing was out of reach. When the Uber pulled into the hotel, Linda still hadn't let go of him. I was glad. She only let go when she saw me looking, and she only saw me looking because he thundered, so I'd be sure to hear.

"I've got some liquor in my room. You want to keep the night going?"

"Sure," I said, trying to play it off like I was doing them a favor. I imagined it wasn't my dream come true. Like I hadn't wanted it for longer than I'd been alive.

And then Linda surprised me again.

"Why not?" she said.

That was the second surprise of the night. The second surprise, and maybe the bigger of the two.

"I like your company," Badrick said. But he wasn't talking to me.

And she looked at him. At Badrick first, and then back to me. Like she wanted to be certain, I knew this time she was sincere. She nodded, I nodded, and it was done. We were yielding to the more powerful race. My cock was rock hard. So, my wife and I went to his room. They arm in arm, me following behind the third wheel. We went with a cover story, it's a few drinks and nothing more.

I wasn't surprised, but I pretended I was. Pretended to myself, because it made the waiting easier. The room was like I imagined, cheap but expensive looking. I knew the hotel had its own ideas about who we were. About the kind of guests, it expected, and I knew I didn't care.

Badrick turned the music up when the door closed behind us, louder than Linda would ever allow. She looked at Badrick as if he was showing off, like he was so cock-sure of himself she couldn't resist. She couldn't. When he offered me a beer, I knew he was doing it to make me feel better. Just so it wouldn't look like I was left out of something we all knew I was to be left out of.

He gave one to her, and the way he handed it off made it obvious. Everything he did was to impress her. The beer was cold, and he was warm, and she laughed again. Laughed at me and then at him, and I saw that she was impressed.

We drank, we talked, and the flirting between them continued. I commented I was a big supporter of the Black organizations in America. Badrick gave me a knowing leer. He kissed her, fucking her mouth with his tongue.

That was the point I knew for sure it was happening. Yes, sir, I saw it as soon as her lovely eyes lit up. It was the first time in years. The first time, I didn't believe she was faking interest in him, only for me. And that's why I stayed. I was always going to stay. I always planned to, but this time, it wasn't a moment that would fade.

It was about to happen.

"You really want this to keep going, don't you," Linda asked, leaning into him while talking to me. Putting her free hand on his shoulder. It was more relaxed than I had ever seen her. Even in bed with me. Even after she said yes to marrying me, and there was no hesitation, her smile wasn't as natural.

"Only for the fun," I said, "not for the company. I'm an observer, nothing more."

It was the only thing I said for the first twenty minutes. Maybe the first thirty. I wasn't counting. Because Linda was counting for me. Counting every beer, every song, every breath she took.

The sighs, kisses, and hugs came easier and more relaxed than I remembered. She moved closer to Badrick, only inches at first, but then feet. The last foot was the longest. It took forever for her to make up her mind. An eternity for her to commit. And when she did, when she moved over to his side of the couch and let him hold her hand, it was a game they both played.

One they wanted to win.

At that point, I finally knew, fucking-A, it was happening. It was real. I only had to wait a little longer, and she'd surrender to him.

They kept up the act. Playing it cool and pretending there was nothing more to it than drinks with an interesting stranger. The way he talked was smoother than I spoke. More silver-tongued than she would ever want me to talk. The way she responded, the way she was relaxed and free, made it clear she liked him.

Shit, maybe she liked him from the first.

Perchance, I imagined it. I presumed lots of things that night. Lots of things that turned out not to be fantasy. But I didn't want to jump the gun. I didn't want to push it. Because if I tried it, I'd get nervous. If I got anxious, she'd say no. Linda always said no until she said maybe, and then it was only a matter of time before I ran out of nerves.

I drank. I consumed as much as Linda and Badrick because I thought I'd relax like them. But it wasn't the drinking that relaxed them. I couldn't put my finger on what it was. That's what drove me crazy. It wasn't just that they were together.

He'd Black her. I wanted him to so bad.

In a blinding flash, I realized they were sure they were the only ones who mattered. It was that they didn't care if I knew they were going to fuck. They understood I wanted them to. The more I watched them, the less they pretended, the less they made it look like an accident.

I'd had a taste of it in the car, in the bar, but now it was real. Linda's hand slipped to his crotch and stayed there longer than in the Uber. Because there was no place I couldn't see, and there was no way to miss it.

The more they drank, the more relaxed she got. The less it looked like Badrick had to try. When she let go of her last round, it was because he'd taken her other hand. The one that wasn't on his leg, and that's when I decided. I had to choose something.

Anything.

I had to decide whether I would watch it all, be brave, and be the man I dreamed I was and wanted to be. A steadfast supporter of BNWO, giving my wife willingly to a black man. Or if I'd back out and leave and be what I'd been all my life, a chicken. A guilt-ridden coward. It was my choice. The only real options I had to stay or go.

And then Linda made it for me.

I'd been so quiet that when she looked at me. When she finally saw the way, I gawked, I thought maybe I'd blown it. But then I realized I couldn't have. Not now. Not when they were making it so obvious.

I took a long breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.

Maybe she thought it was a sigh because that's when she did it. She was the one who got the ball rolling, and for that, I was grateful. She looked at Badrick and smiled like nothing else was in the room. Like I was the outsider. Like I wasn't even there.

And then, only then, did she move. Not away from Badrick. Towards him. I didn't believe it at first. Not until she sat on his lap, tucked her head under his chin, and sighed. A gasp that said, now that you know, I'll go ahead and enjoy myself.

"He doesn't care," she said. "He's supportive of this. And I am, too."

Badrick was still a little reserved. He wasn't ready to make me more of a stranger than I already felt. That lasted about five seconds more. When he was sure, I wouldn't get mad. That I wouldn't explode or blow up or do something that made him uncomfortable. Or made him give me a beat down, which he could.

Something Linda knew I'd never do and something I knew he would if I did. Badrick turned to her and whispered in her ear. Linda nodded fast and was relieved to hear him say it. I couldn't take any more. I had to see. I had to listen.

They needed to start, so I got up and walked toward the bathroom. It wasn't very far, but the second I was inside, the second I was out of sight and still standing. Holding myself together more than I'd ever had anything. They got up and moved to the balcony.

It wasn't like I expected, but it was like I had always imagined. The way they kissed. It wasn't so hot. It wasn't like she couldn't wait. It was tender, more tender than I'd ever been. But it wasn't the kind of tender I was. It was more possessive than me. More demanding than I could be. When they saw me peeking, when they saw me through the crack of the door and out on the balcony, I almost chickened out. But I didn't. Not quite. Not completely. Instead, I coughed.

"Sweetheart," Linda, I said, "more's about to happen. Go ahead and watch us. Because, darling, it's on we're doing this."

She pretended to be thoughtful. Pretended it mattered if I needed it or not. And then she really was thoughtful. That surprised me and made me more of an outsider than ever. For a moment, the longest moment, she said nothing. What she did said everything I ever wanted to hear. She threw herself at him.

Yes, Badrick, not me.

As soon as he walked back into the room and pretended, he didn't notice, I'd just given them the all-clear. Linda jumped into his arms, and I saw it all. Saw it from the moment he let her know I didn't matter. From the moment he slid her dress off her, my dream came true. Badrick didn't stop removing garments until he undid the clasp of her bra, and it fell to the floor.

It was what I'd asked for. What I'd been sure of and unsure of at the same time. The big time, and they acted like I wasn't there. They didn't have to put on a show. Because it didn't matter if I watched them or not, they were getting nasty.

It turned me on. It made me so aroused I couldn't breathe. It made me feel small and big at once. Like a man for the first time, but not for being what they were. For knowing I never could be.

"Come on, sweetheart," I said, "let's make our first payment toward clean consciences."

And she did. She went as far as I imagined. As far as I wanted. Right to and past what I feared and yearned for. She went so far that by the time he got aggressive, by the time Badrick pushed her head down on his gigantic cock, she was a person I'd never seen.

A white whore surrendering her body to her black master.

His big ebony cock stretched her mouth. Further and further, he forced inside her mouth. She gagged and sputtered, and he pushed her down more. I could see it in her throat. Taking two handfuls of her blonde hair, he fucked her face. Linda's breasts bashed into her legs as he thrusts his hips fucking her throat hard and nasty as if her face was a pussy.

Finally, he pushed Linda away, and she fell backward to the floor. Slobber hung from her mouth, clung to her neck and tits. He moved the couch and smacked his swarthy, muscled thighs as an order for her to move to him.

Her gaze shifted between me and Badrick for what felt like an eternity before finally settling on him. Linda threw herself into his embrace once again. Linda jumped into his arms with an eagerness that made my stomach churn.

I watched as Badrick carried Linda over to the bed and laid her down gently. She wriggled beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his hips as they ground against each other. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, then reached behind her back to unhook her bra, letting it fall lightly to the floor.

As Badrick finally entered her, I could see the pleasure in Linda's eyes and the way she arched her back, moaning softly. The sight of them stirred something profound within me. It both aroused and humiliated me, but I couldn't look away. I refused to touch myself and sully their pleasure by seeking my own.

They thoroughly explored each other's bodies in ways I'd only imagined and simultaneously feared. Linda's soft sighs turned into pleasured screams as Badrick took her from one position to another. Each time, Badrick pushed Linda's limits further. Plumbed inside her deeper.

He positioned her onto her hands and knees and thrust into her from behind. Linda gazed back at him with an evil smile I'd never seen. One she'd never shared with me. They experimented with positions and acts I'd never dared think of, and yet my mind conjured up even more wild fantasies.

Badrick was better than me or her but made her the best version of her I'd ever seen.

I stayed there, watching them until their passion reached its peak. Linda's body shuddered beneath him as waves of ecstasy washed over her. It was the best night of her life. And mine, too. Every emotion I had felt that night left me both elated and crushed.

I was powerful yet weak. It made me feel alive like I'd never experienced in my whole life.

She didn't waste time. Linda knew what she wanted, and Badrick knew how to give it to her. Each coupling was marked by a fierce hunger. A longing that seemed insatiable. But it wasn't just about the sex. Linda began to understand what I'd told her. They were better than us. The way she looked at him spoke volumes. In her eyes, he was a god.

He did her the way she'd never let me. They took every position I'd thought of, everything I didn't dare think of, and I still thought of more. I stayed. I watched. I watched her enjoy it more than I knew she could. It was the best night of her life and of mine. I was right. I was right from the beginning, and that made me feel big and small, surrendering to Black, my feeble, white wife, perfect and terrible, and used by him.

She sucked him so hard that she was a different person. A different Linda, one I hadn't known. A version I always thought she had. She rode him, lowering herself on that black prick, that black monster. Despite being the biggest cocked man, I'd ever seen, she took him so deep, so hard, it seemed like she'd do anything to please him.

Linda didn't need to.

It was clear from the start that Badrick would take what she had. Linda bounced and rolled and fucked him. Badrick filled her like I knew he would. Exactly the way I hoped he would, and I told him to seed her.

"Don't pull out. Don't even think about it. Fill her up," I said, and Badrick did.

After a short rest, they were back at it again.

It was four AM. Badrick said he needed a shower, so he went to the bathroom. He'd left Linda on the floor, on the bed, on the couch, on top of him, under him, and on fire. He'd filled her up again and again, and they kept going.

I'd already stayed longer than I expected. Watched more than I thought was possible. Even so, it was less than they had left. It had taken so much of her, so much out of her body, and an abundance of rich cum into her. I wasn't sure if I should be excited or disappointed when she got up and smiled.

"Sweety-pie," she said, "I think you've seen enough for tonight. I want to be alone with him and have some more intimacy with him. I do owe him more. Please, go to our room, and I'll come later. You should jerk off a few times, I won't be fucking you when I come back."

"I understand," I said. Not entirely disappointed, but a bit. After all, I knew going in once she'd been blacked, I might never fuck Linda again. As long as she stayed with me, I didn't care that she only fucked black men. But what if she left me?

In truth, I couldn't be sure she'd come back at all. I'd been right, after all, been right and more than right. Now that Linda gave in and was full of Badrick's seed, would she give more or want more? I didn't know. I couldn't tell. I wanted to tell. I wanted to see.

But she didn't want me there. And I wanted to give her space. That's what she'd said, and when she said something, I believed it. So, I did what she wanted. I gave her space and left. When the door closed behind me, I couldn't stop thinking she'd given herself, really given herself, to someone else.

I couldn't stop thinking how right that was for white women to give themselves to superior black men.

The walk back to our room was the longest I'd ever taken. It was shorter than I remembered. Shorter than it seemed when Linda told me she'd be up later. Up later. I didn't know how much later. Maybe not until she finished. Perhaps not until I was undone and lost in my fantasy cum to life.

It might be the middle of the day or the middle of next week. That was the best part and the worst. I couldn't tell. I didn't know. I hoped it would be so long that it seemed like she'd never come back. I hoped she would. And I wished it would be quick.

And then I hoped it wouldn't be.

I jacked off until my prick was so sore, I couldn't touch it. I whacked off thinking about Badrick fucking her, ripping her open. Claiming my wife as his property. When I woke in the morning, I thought she wouldn't return. I wondered if that was exactly what I wanted.

It didn't feel like what I wanted when the door didn't open, and she didn't walk through it. Not the first time. Not the first twenty. It was noon, and then it was one. And then, at one minute and twenty seconds after one, she walked through the entryway.

Linda was as beautiful, glowing, and confident as she was the first time she walked into my life. I realized that I'd been right from the get-go. She had been with him, and he'd changed her. She had let him do more than I thought I could stand. More than I could imagine, more than she knew I could manage. Still, it was not enough.

"You went for a record," I said, and even though she knew what I meant, she smiled like I was crazy.

"I could have lasted longer," she said. "Thanks for trusting me. But we could have a teeny-tiny problem. Ollie, I think I'm fertile." She put her hand down and cupped her pussy. "And I'm hoping I am."

"That isn't a problem," I said.

Linda looked at me like I was a little insane.

"You won't mind if I have an interracial child and embarrass you?"

"No, not at all," I said. "This is exactly what I wanted. We can raise a child, only a little lower than perfect and a shade less than blacker than night."

"Really, you're so fucking crazy and so fucking sweet. And I'm so fucking happy you have taught me my place with the black people. You know, you must use a rubber when you fuck me from now on."

"I still get to fuck you?"

"For now," she said.

Unfortunately, she didn't get pregnant by Badrick. But I'm looking forward to Linda trying again. I'm searching for a local guy now. I've met a handsome, young charcoal god who works on the loading dock at one of our factories.