The following is my life experience in Northern
California. Some accounts or history can be told in book
and magazines. My name is Audrey for purposes of
protecting my privacy and relaying this story to you.
This account has very few platforms in which it can be
told without causing a scandal and further embarrassment
for the families involved. However I am determined to
tell it before it is forgotten or I pass on.
I was a housewife very devoted to my family and my
beloved husband who passed away in the early 1990’ties.
I have four very beautiful and successful children three
boys and one girl. The oldest is surveyor, the second is
a manager for a large very well known hardware chain
store, the third is a civil engineer for a provincial
hydroelectric company in Canada, and my baby girl is
married to successful ophthalmologist and is a
schoolteacher in Santa Clara Valley. They all grew up in
a very caring household and looking back, I am grateful
that despite my mistakes, errors, and pain, they all grew
up good studious children. Why am I grateful and
thankful? Well let me tell you my story.
Moving to a small town in California in 1959 after
marrying Martin in Nebraska where our families hail from,
Martin obtained employment in a county Surveying
department. And we moved into an established
neighborhood. After a month of settling in another couple
moved in next door, a black couple at that, which cause
much discomfort in our neighborhood.
The couple “Glen” I will call him here and “Matilda” (to
protect their privacy) was very quiet and nice it seemed.
Matilda had an accident, which left her wheelchair bound
and suffered from advanced diabetes. After a while the
neighborhood calmed down and seemed to accept them. We
befriended them and had them over for backyard Barbecues
and card games, I guess to relieve our guilt and to
encourage Matilda in her suffering.
In late March of 1959 my Husband Martin went out with the
boys for pizza and beer after work. Martin had a little
too much to drink that evening and was stopped by the
Police and arrested and thrown in Jail on the DUI charge.
After his release he was fired from his Job at the County
after almost six months of employment. Martin tried to
keep busy with his duties as Pastor of a Small
congregational church of which we were members of since
childhood in Nebraska. Martin never believed in being a
burden on the congregation and always kept himself
employed. So you see the tangled web, Fired from his Job,
the DUI Charge, and being Pastor in our church.
After trying to obtain employment in his field Martin was
unsuccessful especially in this area. Glen then began to
help Martin find employment, I guess in return for us
helping him find services and facilities for his disabled
wife. Four Months passed by and the Mortgage Company sent
us a final letter that they were going to foreclose our
Mortgage for non-payment. To our surprise Glen came to
our rescue and loaned us the money to make the payment.
It was not blind charity that he was performing he was
already talking to his wife’s brother in law who was a
manager at a private surveying company in the adjoining
county south of here.
Martin then began working and got along just great with
the personnel, this was a great blessing for us it was
the job that would help us send the kids to college.
Grateful of his benevolent help we invited him and his
wife to dinner one night; we served roasted Turkey and
made a thanksgiving dinner out of the occasion. My
Husband then commented, “I don’t know how we can ever
repay you and your wife for what you have done for us.
The money I have repaid you is not enough in my view, we
would have lost our investment, our house, and probably
moved back to Nebraska in failure of our California
dream.”
That same evening Glen took Matilda back home next door
and put her to sleep due to her fatigue and came back to
finish the evening with us returning with Five bottles of
Zinfandel wine from the Winery where he was manager due
to being a Nephew of the Owner. Glen was half-Irish and
half-black through his Mother who was also of mixed
blood. The Winery owners usually tried to keep a low
profile on this matter.
As this very pleasant evening passed on with a cheerful
card game and more wine and more wine the atmosphere
became very relaxed it was about 7:00 p.m. During the
card game we were joking and playing for pennies to make
it interesting. During the Joking Martin ran out of
pennies and asked Glen for a loan. The subject of Glen’s
generosity and his overly extended, neighborly charitable
deed came up again. Martin recalled his feelings of his
earlier comment “I don’t know how we can ever repay you
again.” Joking Glen said, “Well if it will make you feel
any better you can lend me your truck for Saturday dump
day.”
Laughter incited, “Maybe you can dump all my prior
problems,” was Martins comment.
“Or you can lend me your Rototiller, and till up some
more problems”, giggled Glen.
“Better yet I will lend you Audrey to do your Laundry,”
taunted Martin to my surprise.
“No, she is too pretty for that, beside she might not
come back,” laughed Glen.
Glen then got a phone call from next door and said that
he would be right back, Matilda needed him for a few
minutes.
Martin and I then began to sum up our evening. I asked
Martin “did you hear that Martin, I am too pretty to do
Laundry?”
“Yea,” replied Martin “too pretty to do Laundry,” he
repeated under the influence of the Wine.
We then began to rationalize, question and discuss
Martin’s comment about lending me to Glen…. To do
Laundry?
“Do you somehow feel indebted to Glen for his going out
of his way and saving our home, uh Martin?”
“I guess I do, we owe a lot to him, he has been a very
good friend and neighbor, I guess I feel for him also
because of his marital condition, Matilda’s disability. I
can’t imagine how he’s managed so long that is Six years
and not be able to have normal marital relations with his
wife. Actually none at all to my observation of the
situation, she seems totally incapable to me.”
“Yea, poor Glen, I feel sorry for him also Martin I wish
I could help him somehow, but you can’t intervene in a
situation like that. He is just destined to keep his
marital promise and his duty to his wife. Anyway he must
love her to be very devoted to her. I guess any other man
would have left her by now.”
“Somehow I feel it is our duty, Audrey, to alleviate
err… to repay his generosity, his Good Samaritan
quality.”
“Yea Audrey I guess in an other world, in another life if
I had an extra wife to lend him one for a day, I would
lend her.”
Wine does funny things to your mind it alters, impairs,
and modifies your judgment. At the time under the
influence of the Zinfandel the minds fantasize and wonder
into a state of euphoria. What follows are the results of
that reasoning.
“Would you lend me?” I teased
“I don’t know, maybe I would, maybe not, and that would
depend on you too.”
“He did say I was pretty, you know I wonder if he
secretly admires me.”
“Maybe, I did catch him in the corner of my eye staring
at you when you were pouring the wine though.”
“Really what was he looking at?” I questioned.
“Maybe your legs, your form, don’t forget I think you’re
pretty also, huh.”
I then conjured in my mind what it would be like to go to
bed with Glen having my husband’s approval and blessing.
After all Glen is very handsome and strong I’ve seen him
play football in the park with the neighborhood kids. He
does have a fine physical build. And my mind wondered and
wondered.
“You know even if I had your permission it would be
adultery, it would be a sin.”
“A sin to help a fellow man get through life and get a
little enjoyment out of it, just kidding,” surprisingly
answer my inebriated husband.
Then Martin reach into his scriptural depths in a moment
of intellectual inspiration and began to surmise: “You
know Audrey, adultery is betrayal, if you laid him with
my permission what would it be? Certainly not betrayal!
Then what would it be Audrey? What would it be classified
as?”
“That’s a good question Martin, I don’t know, you are the
Pastor?”
“If I unselfishly shared you with my fellow man. Would
that not make me a Good Samaritan in return?”
“I guess it would Martin, lets’ say I did for Pete’s
sake, I would have to have you present with me. Who knows
what he would do alone with me, I would prefer you with
me in the room there would be nothing to hide from you.
You would witness all the happenings and no
recriminations afterward. I would feel more comfortable
having your immediate blessing or your intervention of
anything that did not meet your approval. I would not
want to displease you and put our marriage in danger
later on, that is if I’d do it.”
“I can not recall anything in the scripture to prohibit
this, but only if you would want to, I would not want you
to feel obligated,” said Martin. “And you know the reason
Joseph did not lie with Pharaoh’s wife was because she
was doing it behind his back and that would definitely be
adultery that is betrayal.”
“I could feel an excitement within me, lump in my throat,
a dryness that I tried to relieve with another glass of
wine.”
“I don’t see why he would refuse to touch these legs,”
teased Martin running his hand on my thigh under my
skirt.
This definitely encouraged me and made me feel sexy for
Martin but would I be sexy for Glen?
Somehow we came to the decision to try it. We discussed
it, as to how we were going to go about. Later on in life
we would discover that Glen was very faithful to his
wife, but when He could no longer stand it he would then
seek out a lady a one-night non-committal stand. To this
point in 1959 he has only had 3 encounters in the six
years had been married to Matilda.
Apparently Matilda was aware of his ventures, she could
tell when he had sex, knowing he would sing Roy Roger’s
“Happy Trails” in the shower that was the telltale sign
the giveaway. However she was content to have him home,
she understood her husbands needs, and her inability to
satisfy him, any other man would have abandoned her and
she would then be in worse situation.
When Glen returned back from home we offered him more
wine in our best glasses. “We have a gift for you Glen,”
announce Martin.
“Really?” Glen surprisingly answered; little did he know
what awaited him.
At that I started to unbutton my blouse and lower my
skirt dropping them on the family room carpet floor. I
then nervously walked towards Glen and sat on his lap and
planted him long kiss on his lips.
“But I am married,” trembled Glen not wanting to touch my
body.
“We know that, this is gift from us to you Glen you
deserve it.”
Martin then began to preach to him all our reasoning, our
discussions and how I was willing to give my self to him,
no conditions, no strings strictly a Gift.
Glen then began to caress my thighs and fondle my breast
over my brassier. In the meantime Martin was preparing my
bedroom for this occasion. Finally Martin came out and
blurted “Bedroom’s ready.”
I then got up and told Glen to carry me, instantly he
swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom a
practiced maneuver he expertly knew with his
incapacitated wife. As Glen carried me into the bedroom,
I noticed it was dimly lit with two ritualistic romantic
candles on the small bookcase headboard. He then laid me
down on the bed and watched him disrobe of his polo sport
shirt and khaki pants. I noticed his huge manhood already
bulging under his jockey briefs. He understood my
husband’s presence in the bedroom ministering to us.
Martin then bought in a glass tray and three empty
glasses and a wine bottle.
Glen laid down sideways on the bed and I quickly
approached his muscular body and pressed against him my
chest on his matte black hared chest and pressed my lips
on to his and began to kiss him, the wine soothed and
dulled all senses and conscience. Wine pouring in a glass
called my attention peering through the corner of my eye
and seeing Martin pour the glasses and noticing a bulge
on my husband pants. This was also arousing Martin but he
nervously kept to himself barely able to contain his
trembling, possibly reminding himself and reassuring him
self this was a selfless Gift for Glen and Glen only.
He then offer me a glass of wine which I sipped while
Glen worked on my bra. Then Martin offer Glen a glass and
he turned sideways to sip his glass, then laid back again
dropping my bra to the side and laying my breast bare on
his matty chest. Oh what a feeling that was, it was
indescribable, I then proceeded to kiss him feeling his
large hands slide down the middle of my back and into my
panties caressing my ass cheeks. He then lowered my skirt
down to my knees. I then felt another pair of hands
assisting him removing them completely; Martin then gave
them to him to set where ever.
Glen probed me with his tongue during our gentle
lovemaking. Caressing my breasts Glen then began to
remove panties over my buttocks gently. I wiggled my rear
trying to assist him, finally then made down my thighs.
Martin then took over and assisted in lowering them and
finally removing them. Glen and I continued our patient
lovemaking. My husband then offered us another sip of
wine, carefully ministering us our every need, even
wiping our chins from miss-sipped wine. Glen respectfully
made no effort to make genital contact with me,
conscience of my husband in the room he refrains, moving
sideways a little at a time. I then began to kiss his
neck working my way toward his taut and hard stomach. I
could feel his manhood with my thighs and stomach as I
made my way down.
I suddenly came to an abrupt stop when I noticed his
manhood reaching up above his navel I was startled at his
size, not that I would not noticed but it was so obvious
and it had a menacing demeanor. Men are always conscience
of their size, we women are not that particular, it is
what a Man does with it is what counts, the way he uses
it. My husband was frozen stiff at the edge of the bed
cleaning the wineglasses a bit. (Later he confessed to me
that he had never seen a man that huge before and that he
almost intervened to put a stop to having this black man
copulate with me.)
Glen then began to kiss me again working his way to my
breasts, sucking each breast like a baby I caressed his
kinky head as he fed off of me and I cuddled him gazing
in a dream like state at my husband sipping wine. Why was
I so willing to give my self to this Man? I guess it was
his giving quality that kept seducing me on and of course
the excellent wine.
As Glen approached my teddy he stopped and looked at my
husband as if waiting for his approval, nod, a smile, a
word. My husband said nothing but handed him white
delicate cloth towel and a sip of wine. Glen took that as
permission to proceed and he did so lapping my pussy like
a puppy on a bowel of milk. He parted my legs and devoted
his love making, pleasuring me like my husband sometimes
does except I could feel Glen’s small mustache twinge my
clitoris.
“Hmmm,” he mumbled “its…. fuzzy woozy….” He then
began to work his kissing ritual to my left thigh on over
to my left hind cheek, licking my left side, finally
coming up and homing in on my left breast where he hung
on like a baby. My teddy was oozing I had no control over
it I just had to have Glen in me.
I then straddled Glen under me. I, managing my hair and
clasping it together all the while Glen cupped my breasts
working my areolas then my nipples. I was dripping on
Glen’s taut stomach, just then a hand with a wristwatch
appeared and swabbed Glen’s stomach and wiping my furry
teddy. Meanwhile Glen still did not make an effort to
enter me, he had too much respect for me and my Husband
to enter my body with his manhood into a reserved and
prohibited area accessible only to my husband.
I could feel his engorged manhood suffering being pressed
between our stomachs I could feel it’s twitching head at
my navel. I then laid my breasts on his matty manly chest
and again started to kiss him probing him with my tongue.
I raised my bottom up, feeling his large hands caressing
my buns high up in the air I kept them waiting for his
final grasp in passionate anticipation for that split
second he would pull me down and bury his manhood into my
anxious body, I wanted to posses his member, and caress
it with my warm pussy and protect it from the elements in
my motherly womb. But to no avail it still stood proud
and strong in attentive strength All-American and rigid
pride.
Later on I learned that Glen did not want to screw me,
nor enter me with my husband watching, not knowing what
reaction he’d receive upon seeing a black man-muscle
penetrate his dear wife. He might get enraged and stop
what progress he has made up to this point.
Still kissing him concentrating on loving kisses in
gratitude that this wonderful person saved our home, my
husband’s dignity and sanity. Again my devoted husband
gave me a sip of wine and Glen also of course. Martin
finally came to the realization that it finally had to
come about; it had to happen soon or later.
To avoid any recrimination that I took him into me or
that he entered me without his blessing he took the
initiative to encourage the union. He gently placed his
left palm on my left cheek as if to adjust the position
of my fanny, then I felt his hand under me as he
nervously clasped Glen’s massive male organ and pulled
back on it trying to align it with my teddy. He could
hardly control this black mass of gristle and muscle
proudly holding its own in stubborn rigid strength,
Martin’s slightly pressing down on my left bun signaled
me his permission to copulate.
(Martin later confessed to me how nervous he was almost
calling the whole thing off, grasping Glen’s male organ
he almost let go in disgust it felt and seemed unclean.
Resembling a large brown venomous cobra he dare not let
go till it was safely in, put away and contained. When it
was impaled in me he said it looked like a tree stump
buried in my pussy with two hand grenades ready to go
off. He said it was the most disgusting, despicable,
vile, sight to behold and it made him sick to his
stomach, despite the fact that it was his duty to
officiate the conjugation to avoid recrimination from me
or against Glen. He immediately left for the bathroom and
made three attempts to throw-up unsuccessfully. )
I made no effort to stop his entry, I gently allowed Glen
to meld into me, with the assurance of my husband’s touch
and caressing my behind. After the conjugation was
complete he kissed my bottom tenderly and covered my
derriere with the velvet sash he customarily used on the
pulpit.
With Martin’s blessing we consummated the union it was a
beautiful experience with semi-religious connotations.
After reaching an unbearable climax I felt Glen erupt
with four strong spasms, I could feel his warm seed
spreading within me as I held him in my womb nurturing
his painful descent from his heighten ecstasy…. and I
possessed him. Savoring his manhood within me, he was
mine all mine as I nurtured him in my womb concealed and
protected from my husband envious stares.
As I said before size is not important to most of us
women, but to men it seems it is it either boost their
ego, or if they compare themselves it shrinks if they
somehow feel inferior. If you must know my Husband tells
me Glen’s manhood is a fourteen-incher, however I will
not degrade nor dishonor my husband by telling you his
size.
That evening I lay in bed in a semi-sleep caressed by
Glen and my husband embracing me with his hand on my
teddy as if to prevent a re-entry.
Later after Glen showered, my Husband sat in the family
room discussing their mutual affair over rum-tea to calm
their nerves and renew there friendship. After Glen left
my husband assisted me in taking a bath and cleansing me
thoroughly with an herbal bath treatment. I cleansed my
self very thoroughly removing every trace of Glen’s
semen, I douched three times, not that I was afraid of
getting pregnant for we made sure I was not ovulating
since I practiced the rhythm birth control.
For the next three weeks I had very mixed emotions, I
cried continually, then I recalled the tender fondness of
our experience of my husbands Gift to Glen, and of Glen’s
appreciation for the Gift, his deep respect for me and my
husband. Then I felt dirty, a slut, not worthy of
Martin’s love. I felt like I cheated on my Husband at
which Martin reminded me constantly I did not cheat on
him it was consensual. I had a mood swings and
depressions, reexaminations of my soul, sleepless nights,
loss of appetite, nausea almost every morning.
My husband in trying to reclaim his marital rights became
very obsessed in having relations with me every evening
after this event in which numerous times I accepted him
then again would reject him feeling dirty. He kept on
going right into ovulation after lengthy discussions that
maybe it was time to have a child to cement our marriage
further and this we did. Morning sickness got the best of
me and at times made me feel even dirtier.
As my pregnancy advanced I began to heal my wounds of
conscience and I started to appreciate and cherish the
decision Martin and I made to have a child. The
experiment with Glen became far away within my mind since
we no longer associated with him as we use to. My husband
still says hello to him, lends him our mower, he would in
turn lend my husband a needed garden tool. We hardly re-
associated either by intention or we were to busy with
our own lives.
In late may of 1960 we had a beautiful baby boy we named
him Martin Jr. Light brown hair, when he grew up during
high school he became every girls dream boy. He grew up
to be a surveyor like his father. As time passed, one
year approximately, we tried to have another child to
complement Martin Jr. We tried time and time and again.
Then we started to go to clinics to try invitro and other
methods. Then we took fertility tests after nothing
worked. My test was positive I was producing fertile
eggs.
The surprise was Martin; he had tested negative, however
he went back for more tests, then to alternate labs. All
tests came back negative. After consulting with a
specialist Martin was told that he was completely
infertile, zilch, nada, zero.
We sat down over a hot tea one evening to discuss the
problem and recalculated the expenses incurred and began
to examine…. the…. most…. perturbing….
nagging…. Question…. In the back of our minds of
which we were in denial. Was Martin Jr. really our son?
Was it Martin’s son.? Or was it Glen’s? The doctor
affirmed that it was a ninety- percent probability that
Martin was always and has always been sterile.
To resolve the question discreetly Martin went in for a
paternity blood test. At the time DNA blood test did not
exist, but a simpler blood test and it proved negative.
The Doctor said that it was a 70 percent probability that
Martin Jr. was not my husband’s son! At first we thought
that maybe he was, he had white skin, light brown hair,
and my husband’s slightly squinty eyes. Glen had squinty
eyes also! Glen’s parents were of mixed race; he had a
lot of white blood in him. Then it hit us! Other babies
had pink or light skin scrotums; Martin Jr.s’ was a
little dark!
The truth began to sink in slowly one day at a time; we
had one child, Martin and I, and it was not really ours!
It’s Glen’s and mine, the thought that I conceived my
child that night on our bed with my Husband’s blessing
was an irony, at times it seem like a cruel joke, after
trying to give Glen a gift of pleasure he in turn
impregnated me. I was mad with myself, mad with Martin
and at times mad at the world. Then I thought maybe it
was meant to be, maybe Martin Jr. was gift a reward in
return for our considerate thought.
Being that my Husband was after all, sterile as an unused
hypodermic needle, all that time he was shooting blanks,
he was firing into the air. He was charging into battle
with an empty rifle, no bullets, how brave he was. If he
had only known would he continue charging or would he
desert and go AWOL?
The relationship between Martin and I slid down hill to a
very cold state. Then we decided to go back home to visit
family, go back to our roots, and meditate where we come
from, where we started at, and our roots. We then made
plans to go back to Nebraska and visit.
Omaha Vacation
We were looking forward to going back to Omaha and visit
relatives and renew old acquaintances and this we did it
was a very enjoyable trip the family got to know little
Marty Jr. which included photo opts, a reunion camping
trip. Almost all the family members remarked that little
Marty had Daddy’s eyes and my cheeks, (if they only
knew.)
After two weeks in and around Omaha we finally tired out
and were looking forward to returning back to California.
Upon arrival we notice our neighbor was not up and about
as usual and that was puzzling because he normally is a
very active individual. I decided to call Matilda but
then hesitated, ‘maybe they separated’ was my gut
feeling. I finally came up with enough courage to call
her.
To my surprise Matilda informed me that he was in the
hospital a victim of some criminals who attempted
burglary on our home and was knifed fending them off. He
did managed to beat two of them up pretty badly but a
third on came out of a waiting truck and knifed him. Upon
hearing the news from Matilda my jaw drops. He had been
in the Hospital for a week and was due to be released in
two days. Martin and I began to visit him taking Matilda
along with us instead of being all day with the temporary
caretaker.
Upon release two days later we invited Glen for a dinner
on a Sunday night he gladly accepted the invitation. Glen
entered our house that evening with a terrific black eye
stitches on his right cheek, also pointing out his
stitches on abdomen. We were glad to have him back and
Matilda also; Glen this time bought 5 bottles of white
wine to compliment the marinated peppered steak I made
that evening. Matilda at times looked at me with envy or
so I thought, or was it my conscience or imagination.
After this lovely evening Martin and I began to talk and
reason with ourselves about the previous ongoing
discussions of having another child.
“I am not going to have a child out of the freezer,” I
retorted.
“That’s the new technology, everybody that can’t have
children are doing it,” replied Martin.
“What if the freezing damages that particular little
sperm,” I cried.
“We can try invitro from an immediate donor,” recanted
Martin.
“Invitro or no invitro, frozen or thawed it is too risky
in my mind I can not handle it, from a stranger who god
knows where he has been.”
“Fine then we will get Glen’s cock and squeeze it out
him,” Martin angrily puffed.
Then for a moment we sat there looking at each other
thinking what we just said and the profane way Martin
referred to Glen’s manhood.
Then Martin rationalized, “you know Audrey we know Glen,
he has a lot of respect for us and we for him also.”
“Marty’s new little brother or sister could truly be a
brother or sister in the full sense of the word,” I
thoughtfully agreed considering the overwhelming chances
of conceiving another child with mostly Caucasian
features.
After two days of discussion and soul searching we
finally agreed and it was a go.
Friday night we invited Glen over for some hors de ors
and wine. We commenced a card game that started at about
7:30 till about 8:45 that evening. With Martin’s nod I
started the dance of seduction for Glen. Swaying to the
soft music from the stereo I sat on Glen’s lap wearing a
split long skirt that opened once I sat on him. I
conveyed to him that he deserved another one of our Gifts
with Martin’s insistence. By this time we each had about
a bottle of wine, so our thinking toward this matter was
very positive. Glen thanked us and told us we did not
have to do this.
“We want to do this Glen we feel grateful once again you
went out of your way to protect our home, however next
time I hope in an instance such as this once you step
side and let the police handle it,” I softly scolded him.
Once again Martin prepared the bedroom for our
conjugation, lighting two candles on top of the
headboard. As I lay on my back Martin placed the
sacramental velvet sash under my derriere and folded it
across my stomach covering my pelvis. With this dutiful
act I felt my husband’s approval and blessing once again.
The following is a description of my sentiments and
illusions at the time before our second union.
When Glen came out of the bathroom having placed a condom
on himself this time, he smiled and said “Audrey, wow,
she looks beautiful Martin”
Glen’s slightly inflamed face, receding black eye and the
two bandages one on his right cheek the other on his taut
abdomen protecting his stitches in my minds eye he was my
black knight in shining armor with his lance pointed up
and forward charging into the fog of battle in ecstasy.
Charging fearlessly as the day he fought the two thugs
with his vulnerable love boy, exposed in front
susceptible to injury.
As he stood before me on his knees on the bed I reach out
to him getting a firm hold on his condom covered man-
muscle. I questioned “what is this, there is no need for
this!”
“I put it on Audrey I don’t want to take a chance of
impregnating you and embarrassing you and your family.” I
quickly pulled it off with a recoiling “snap” and threw
it onto the dresser.
“Let me worry about that, you just enjoy Glen, b’sides I
practice birth control,” I coyly lied. Tonight he was
ours, the hell with frozen sperm and unknown donors, this
was fresh out of the oven, Glen’s scrotal sack nurtured
and produced the sperm fresh from nature’s scrotum and
was delivering it al la natural. He then uncovered my
pussy removing the over lapping velvet sash ends, then
placing his hands under my thighs and spreading me like a
flower to make access into my body. He quickly entered me
in four gentle strokes.
Was I falling in love with him? His matty chest on my
breasts or so I thought, I was falling in love, so I
willingly took all of him with great expectations. Orgasm
or not I wanted his manly seed to be spewed in me in
abandoned ecstasy I now wanted his child more than ever.
Suddenly I, along with six great pulses, felt the jets of
sperm warming my inner belly. After a couple of minutes
Glen went to the bathroom to cleanse himself.
My husband full of passion with the sight of these
nocturnal events then mounted me and began to copulate
with me since I had not orgasm yet. He rammed in easily
as if to push Glen’s semen farther in and assure
pregnancy with his own sterile effort. I finished with
Martins enthusiastic pumping and spewing his semen within
me.
Martin also went to the other bathroom to clean himself
up. Just then Glen came out and laid beside me nice and
clean and nodded off. I was so exhausted I tried to get
off the bed and nodded off again next to Glen’s left
thigh. I gazed at him through heavy drowsy eyes, and
there it was, the lance of his manhood lying there on his
dark brown thigh withering away and dying. It seems to
shed a tear of post-coital sadness. My feelings were that
I could not let it die like that, I had to do something
to bring it back to life.
So I gently caressed it with my right hand and kissing
it, tasting its tear and it seemed to perk up a little. I
then took in his manly-muscle as it grew once again,
strong all-American strong and rigid, I sucked on it like
it was popsicle to keep it from melting and running down.
Suddenly my husband walked in, mouth opened in surprise I
froze in fear of displeasing him and I dropped his member
immediately, as I got up to apologize to him. Crawling
off the bed “spsszppt” POW right on over my right eye, in
a split second “spzzzppt” POW on my left breast despite
putting out my hand to defend my self. “Sppisszzpt” spat
on my right rear derriere. Finally I got far enough away
to avoid two more blows from Glen’s firing man-weapon
that seemed to have an aim of its own like it knew its
intended target. Sperm running down my face, breasts, and
rear thighs in trembling in fear not knowing whether to
whimper or sob, Martin gently cleaned my face, breasts
and thighs.
My husband began to laugh …. in a low tone. “That’s
what you get for playing with live ammo, if you do not
know how to handle it wait for my instruction, besides
you never point the gun to your face if you are not
handling the muzzle properly. Then we all started to
laugh breaking the seriousness of the ritual to this
point, realizing we should enjoy this more as part of
life, to lighten up sort of speak.
The following week was again full of remorse for my
conduct; again it was a roller coaster of emotion. Was I
falling in love with Glen? In effect was Martin in error
on his conviction that this was not cheating therefore it
was not adultery? Then what was it if I felt this way? I
wanted to be with Glen again but I withheld my emotions
bit my lip and cried inside me day and night for about
two weeks. I then began to accept life as it is and
resigned myself to live a life of denial.
Martin again tried to reclaim his wife; he went at it day
after day giving it his all, firing blanks into my womb,
till his man fruits were empty. Morning sickness again
set in with a vengeance. Nine months later we had a
beautiful baby boy, we kept our fingers crossed that Glen
would do as good a job as he did with Marty Jr. and true
to his genes he did. Little baby David had dirty blond
hair and his facial features were more mine and no
squinty eyes, Oh thank you lord, thank you. Again our
unselfish nature paid off.
We were richly reward with this beautiful baby boy which
we name for his Uncle David who never came back from
Vietnam. David has grown up to be a manager for a
hardware store and very successful at it too. David now
lives in Western Canada.
Again we kept our distance from Glen and Matilda, however
not as far this time; Matilda made more of an effort to
keep in touch with me. One day Matilda confided in me
what she suspected all along. “I know what goes on
between our families Audrey, but you know I prefer it
this way,” sobbed Matilda.
“What do you know,” I quizzed her.
“It’s so obvious I know when Glen has been with a woman,
he tries to hide it, but I can read every page in his
book, I know him like the palm of my hand,” she enviously
quipped.
“Has Glen told you anything in particular,” I asked.
“He does not have to when he sings in the shower as happy
as a bird I know. But I prefer this to having him lye
down with strangers or street sluts. She began to sob
uncontrollably, I tried to hug her but she kept pushing
me away, until she finally gave in. You know I am
incapable of pleasing my husband however I always manage
to keep a supposedly hidden box of condoms. I pretend I
am not attentive to the box. All I ask Audrey is that you
don’t alienate him from me don’t take him away from me he
is all I’ve got in this world. I hope you husband does
not come down so hard on you when he finds out.”
At this point I began to explain the whole picture to her
how we shared this Gift to Glen for all that he has done
for us. And how Martin, the Reverend Martin my husband
for a fact, has blessed this arrangement. And we talk
over crumpets and tea till almost midnight that evening.
A week later Matilda and Glen went to Sunday service and
heard my Husband’s fire and brimstone sermon on Adultery
and how it constituted cheating behind your mates’ back
and the pain it caused to the betrayed mate. On the
pulpit was the velvet sash, which Martin uses also to
cover my Derriere while consuming Glen’s black man-muscle
up into my womanly passage. How comforting to sit in the
pews knowing that we did not cheat anybody nor did we
betray our mates, but in the back of our minds still
questioning the yet unidentifiable sin.
Later on in Life a car hit my husband and his associate
on a surveying job. Martin was laid up for weeks during
his hospital stay and he was also diagnosed with cancer.
Unable to perform his masculine duties because of
chemical treatments he summoned Glen over more frequently
to conjugate with me and keep me satisfied.
And when Martin could manage it he would once in while
also enter me deposit his meager contribution, though
small it was very much appreciated by me. Glen sang
“Happy Trails” in the shower I could hear him next door,
Matilda too was happy he was not straying but staying
close to home. I kept my promise not alienate him from
her, the relation was purely a physical one. He was a
stud unbeknownst to him and that’s all he was.
Having a third child with almost no trace of his black
genes made us very comfortable. So comfortable we decided
to have one last child. During my third month of
pregnancy Matilda passed away. Glen was very distraught,
depressed, relieved of a burden, guilty of not being able
to copulate with her and therefore lay down with me
instead. After the initial blow Martin would send me over
to keep him company and so that he could find comfort and
sympathy. Martin instructed me provide him with coitus if
necessary so that he would find comfort in my womb.
“I don’t mind you lying down with him in any case the
child that you are nurturing in your belly is his, and
that he adds a little more warm fluid to him in the womb
I am sure will make the child comfortable. And this I
did, pregnant and all I let Glen in and let him deposit
his measure of love even though he could not enter all as
before considering the baby’s safety. On a cold December
our baby girl was born we named her Matti (Matilda) in
honor of faithful Matilda. Four months later Martin my
faithful husband died of his cancer, at least he got to
hold baby Matti in his arms, that is one of the few joys
of life that is not comparable to any materialistic
endeavor. Matti teaches school in Northern California.
The children are all under the impression for all good
and purposes that Martin is their father. They don’t know
that Glen is their biological father. Since they all have
Caucasian features Glen does not suspect they are his,
that is, I don’t think so. Maybe it is because his four
brothers all married black women and have black babies
the wives genes made sure of that. One married a white
woman before his second wife and had a white baby. Glen’s
brother accused her of fooling around with man at a
honky-tonk bar and so began their UN-reconcilable
differences and they divorced.
I don’t dare divulge to my children their real father,
who knows the chain reaction or cataclysmal consequences
that could result. And I don’t dare tell Glen about his
children. So you see the tangled web. Glen wants
children, he never had any with Matilda, so he wants to
have one with me.
I love Glen but I can not marry him and let me have his
child lest he discover our nasty little secret; that is
he is capable of having white children with a White
woman. Glen is light brown black, with lighter black
features, his hair is almost not kinky that is a very
tight wavy hair. And now you see the web gets more
difficult. What can I do? What should I do? All the love
making, frolicking, the happy life has come to a
standstill.
I am caught between a rock and hard place. I continue to
have him as my love neighbor, I love him but I can not
marry him. My children already cautioned me about Glen
getting to close to me. However Matti is different she
seems to like him. When she comes over to visit she tells
me she can really communicate with Glen, that she wishes
that they could have had a father like him (poor child if
she only knew).