Black owned - Laetitia Guivarché - E-Book

Black owned E-Book

Laetitia Guivarché

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Beschreibung

My name is Scarlett. Scarlett Bagwell. I am a young woman, now nevertheless 32 years old, and I am married to a very accommodating, kind, caring and successful man. We live in Springfield, Alabama, a small town of about 60,000 people. Maximilian is already damn good looking. He's a Southern gentleman to the core. Nice, polite, charming and attentive. Maximilian is actually exactly what a woman should imagine her dream man to be. Well, almost at least. Except for one literally small and really small problem, his genital equipment. His penis is far below the average of white men and measures just barely 10 cm. I am with 1.65 m quite small and slim. Nevertheless, I have very feminine curves. I wear cup size 85 D. My hair I wear short and usually dyed platinum blond. Until that evening, I was actually quite happy with my husband's outfit and with our sex life. I just didn't know any better. A little over a year ago, I had a date with a friend Carrol to an art opening in Old Town Springfield. But Carrol is a mother of two and once again stood me up at short notice. But I didn't blame her, that's the way it is when you have children. I still wanted to enjoy the planned, free evening. So I strolled alone through the large hall at Montgomery Square and looked very interested in the paintings of the young artist. There hung really beautiful, large-format pictures from the most diverse areas of life exhibited. Architecture, landscapes and people. Not least, of course, eroticism. I strolled through the hall until I came to a very captivating picture. I stopped. It was a picture that showed a slender white woman completely naked, embraced by several, strong black arms. Her breasts and pubic area were almost completely covered by her hands. Only small beginnings remained to be seen to stimulate the imagination of the viewer. The image was very erotic, very haunting. It spoke to me formally directly.

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Black owned

The story of a white wife

All rights reserved.

Unauthorized use, such as reproduction, distribution, storage, and transmission, may result in civil or criminal penalties.

All rights reserved by the author.

Original copyright © 2021, by Laetitia Guivarché.

Imprint

Laetitia Guivarché, P.O. Box 42, 97634 Mellrichstadt, Germany

[email protected]

Foreword

Dear readers

thank you for buying my book.

My name is Laetitia Guivarché. I was born in 1988 to a French father and a German mother. My face adorns this cover. I have been writing stories of all kinds since I was a child. The older I got, the more I was drawn to erotic literature. To date, I have published about 400 erotic novels and short stories in twelve different languages.

Yours Laetitia

Black owned - The story of a white housewife

My name is Scarlett. Scarlett Bagwell. I am a young woman, now nevertheless 32 years old, and I am married to a very accommodating, kind, caring and successful man. We live in Springfield, Alabama, a small town of about 60,000 people.

Maximilian is already damn good looking. He's a Southern gentleman to the core. Nice, polite, charming and attentive. Maximilian is actually exactly what a woman should imagine her dream man to be. Well, almost at least. Except for one literally small and really small problem, his genital equipment. His penis is far below the average of white men and measures just barely 10 cm. I am with 1.65 m quite small and slim. Nevertheless, I have very feminine curves. I wear cup size 85 D. My hair I wear short and usually dyed platinum blond.

Until that evening, I was actually quite happy with my husband's outfit and with our sex life. I just didn't know any better. A little over a year ago, I had a date with a friend Carrol to an art opening in Old Town Springfield. But Carrol is a mother of two and once again stood me up at short notice. But I didn't blame her, that's the way it is when you have children.

I still wanted to enjoy the planned, free evening. So I strolled alone through the large hall at Montgomery Square and looked very interested in the paintings of the young artist. There hung really beautiful, large-format pictures from the most diverse areas of life exhibited. Architecture, landscapes and people. Not least, of course, eroticism. I strolled through the hall until I came to a very captivating picture. I stopped. It was a picture that showed a slender white woman completely naked, embraced by several, strong black arms. Her breasts and pubic area were almost completely covered by her hands. Only small beginnings remained to be seen to stimulate the imagination of the viewer. The image was very erotic, very haunting. It spoke to me formally directly.

There I stood now, as if ordered and not picked up. Thoughtfully sipped my glass of champagne, when suddenly a man stood next to me and examined me insistently and quite unabashedly. He was black as ebony and quite good-looking. He was young, I guessed 22 or 23 maybe. His broad shoulders, short frizzy hair and a very winning, cheeky smile with bright white teeth. Despite my overly high heels, he was much, much taller than me. I think 6'4" is what he will have been. He looked very muscular. His muscle packs stood out through the fancy, tight top he wore. His offensive and unabashed looks made me honestly a little nervous and I could clearly feel how he undressed me completely with his looks.

I wonder what was going through his mind? I tippled with nervousness a little clumsy on my high heels around and sipped my slim glass. Then he suddenly spoke to me: "Hey baby, you have great tits". To be honest I flinched startled and snubbed and looked at him incredulously. I replied to him in a slightly hotter voice, "Thank you". And while I was saying the magic word, all I could think of was that I actually wanted to say something else to this impudent lout. But my words made themselves independent.

Without noticing it at first, I automatically made a hollow back and stretched my breasts even further towards him. He smiled at me again with a wide mouth and asked me: "Are your boobs really sweet"? I looked at him with a flash in the eyes, determined to slam him a salted answer in front of the bib: "Of course they are real" I answered him. What had gotten me into this, I asked myself. Again, other words came out of my mouth than the ones I had thought of. I couldn't help myself, somehow this gruff, coarse manner of the young black man made me pretty hot. He twisted my head, that I now realized.

Now looked at me with mustering looks and said full of self-understanding: "Well then show me white mama"! Again I flinched inwardly snubbed. I stammered embarrassedly: "Excuse me? About here? You can't do that!" And when I spoke my again misguided words, I knew in the subconscious already that I had just given a completely new turn to the evening. Only the goal did not want to become clear to me yet. "Why not sweetie, what's the big deal," the black man spoke, continuing to look at me insistently. I gasped and stammered meekly: "Yes, but that's not possible, not with all these people here".

But he just laughed audaciously and grabbed me by the arm. Now he just pulled me to him, without waiting for a reaction from me he pushed me towards the exit. I did not know what happened to me and pranced on my much too high heels a little awkwardly next to him. When we arrived at the sultry summer night air of Alabama he led me to his car. Quickly he opened the door for me. As if by remote control, I got in on the passenger side and sat down. He got in too and then drove right off. The blood in my veins pulsed like crazy. Unstoppable I felt my racing heartbeat. What had I gotten myself into? Just a moment ago I was standing in front of a painting at this vernissage and now I was sitting in the car of a complete stranger, a black man. Hardly had we driven a few meters, he turned to me and said: "Well then show your tits to horny piece"!

I shook even more all over my body and still looked at him in disbelief. And I thought to myself: "Doesn't he know that I am the daughter of the chief of police? And the wife of the chief judge of Springfield?" The young black man just snapped his fingers like I was a cheap Hooters waitress and pointed at my breasts. He was getting impatient "What's up now bitch? Are you trying to get off again?" At that moment I knew I was hopelessly at his mercy. My head said no, it even screamed no. But my mumu said something else and the hormones slowly twisted my head. With shaky hands I unbuttoned my blue blouse a bit and took my lush breasts out of the barely-measured half-shell bra.

Satisfied, he looked over at me and smiled. No sooner had I freed my breasts from their fabric prison than he reached his right hand over to me. He kneaded and squeezed my bouncing breasts testingly. I felt the hard pressure of his strong, black hand. I thought of the white woman in the photo and couldn't help a low moan.

The young black man continued completely unimpressed as if nothing had happened, as if nothing was wrong. Then it didn't take too long and he parked in front of a large run-down apartment block. We were in Woodside, a social hot spot in the south of the city. He opened his door and just as I was about to fix my blouse neatly he mewed at me, "Read that bitch. It looks good the way it is." Completely irritated, I looked at him and a thousand thoughts shot through my head at once.

But then I thought to myself that I don't know anyone in this, frankly pretty fucked up residential area anyway and stayed exactly as I was and got out of the car. Exactly from such neighborhoods come probably the criminals my father arrests and Maximilian sentences as a judge. I followed him to the entrance of the house.

My breasts bounced around naked out of my blue blouse and I had the feeling that my breasts were becoming more and more powerful and enormous. As if they were growing with excitement. It certainly looked totally filthy, as I ran around in this bad neighborhood on the open street. Without a word, he unlocked the front door and I followed him up the old, creaky stairs. The hallway reeked of stale food, of old grease and burnt beans. The elevator was shot too, so we walked upstairs. I'm not really used to climbing stairs. I felt some sweat forming on my forehead. From exertion, from nervousness, from fear? Probably from a mixture of all of the above.

On the stairs we were met by a young couple. He, too, was black, quite handsome and athletic. But he made a certain, civilized impression. He didn't seem to be a gangster, more the nerd type. His girlfriend was young, tall, blond, with rather thick breasts that bobbed rather wildly back and forth in front of her petite silhouette as she walked up and down the stairs. The strange young man, however, stared quite unabashedly at my assets while doing so and touched my black companion in a manner befitting his status. He gave me a knowing smile and said "Yo man! To every black brother his white mare"!

As I was to learn later, my companion also knew the petite blonde. She had already spread her long, shapely legs for him many times, of course with the knowledge of her boyfriend, black brothers like to share their white mares as I should learn later. It ran ice cold down my spine and I was inwardly quite ashamed of what I was doing here.

A few moments later we were standing in front of his apartment door. He unlocked it and I followed him into the strange apartment. As soon as we stood in the run-down hallway, he turned me around in front of him and examined me with an insistent look from the front as well as from behind, I felt like a cattle being examined. And somehow I was. He grabbed with both hands in my open neckline and with a loud, firm jerk, he stripped me of my blue blouse. I assumed he didn't know that my blouse cost $200. I also did not assume that he was thinking of replacing it.

The last, just barely closed buttons jumped across the room and I was now topless in front of him. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he had also torn away my skimpy bra. I had never experienced anything like that before. I stood there as if rooted to the spot. Unable to articulate myself properly, unable to do the right thing, or even to act rationally. Again he smiled at me with his white teeth and his arrogant, self-confident arrogant manner and put both hands on my shoulders. Now he pushed me forcefully where I should have my place in his eyes - in front of him on my knees. On my knees - in front of all the hot men in the world. I was now kneeling in front of him on the floor with no functioning mind, no judgment at all. Immediately he fingered his pants and took out his only semi-stiff- and yet already so powerful cock.