Introduction- The following is a work of erotic fiction. I used a social political backdrop that has undertones of current events to create a scenario in which a person was exposed to something they probably never would have experienced otherwise. It is not meant to express any personal political views so please just read it for what it is: a story about interracial sex. Hope you enjoy.
The Reparations Act
The Reparations Act. Nobody gave it much of a thought when a few years back a small faction of people from the liberal far left started making noise about how white people should be paying reparations to black people for the years of social and racial injustices that they had endured for so long. Like what did it even mean? During the tenure of the latest republican president most of these voices were squashed as nonsense and swept under the rug by most everyone except the SJW’s on the far left. Then, after the election the democrats took over the White House as well as the house and the senate. Some of the far left ended up in positions of power and over the next year more and more the talk of reparations gained steam and even though many were against it, the ones that were for it latched on to their cause and pushed harder and harder and yelled louder and louder until it actually became an idea that people were considering, from politicians to average citizens. People protested, lobbying for legislation involving some sort of restitution to black American citizens for the suffering they had endured at the hands of white people.
Then the day came and it became a law; The Reparations Act. Under the new law, white American citizens over the age 21 were required to pay a 2.5% tax on their earnings. The tax was then paid out to black and some indigenous citizens that applied and were approved to receive the money. Of course, it was determined that there should be some exceptions within the law, and the interpretations of the exceptions opened up some loopholes in the law.
For example, in lieu of paying the tax due to lack of income or other circumstances, a white person could sign up for community service in which they could pay their share by performing civic duties for a black person that signed up to receive the service in forfeit of their receiving a check in the mail. Failure to abide by the new law could result in a fine or even jail time.
On February 1, 2023, the president signed the law in to effect.
For most people, their lives remained relatively unchanged. Many people were able to absorb the 2.5% deduction in their pay without much trouble. Black people started receiving checks from the government, that although were not life changing, seemed to offer validation to many that they had been wronged on so many levels, and it was now being acknowledged. This seemed all well and good but behind the scenes, things were a little different. After a while and the money ended up being more of a token of good will than a real benefit, more and more black people started signing up to receive their reparations in the form of having white people performing their community service directly to them. They wanted to see white people uncomfortable so they really could understand what is was like to be in a black person’s shoes. Underground groups got together and started spreading ideas on how to exploit the system, and the law as it was written. And so, let me explain how that ended up affecting my life.
My name is Beth, and I am a white woman. I and 26 years old and am married to my white husband, John, who is considerably older than me at age 37. We met as coworkers and I’ve always been attracted to older men. We’ve been married for 3 years.
John treats me like a princess, he takes care of me and leaves me wanting nothing. We don’t work for the same company anymore, we decided it was best if we didn’t, but John makes considerably more money than I ever have. When the R.A. went into effect we both dutifully paid our tax and both agreed that it was a good thing, maybe me more so than John. It went on like this for a while but since my income was considered my spending money I soon started to miss the extra money. Without telling John I decided to to sign up for community service so I could keep my extra spending money for myself. I mean, what can I say, I like to shop!
The way it works is once signed up for community service, each white person is matched up with a black person who had also signed up to receive community service. It turns out, black women like to shop too and they mostly wanted to keep the extra money they had been receiving. And white men were too proud to be seen as weak or unable to pay their share, with the exception of a few beta boys that actually seemed proud to perform their civic duties. So if you’re keeping track, the people most often paired together were white women and black men.
I ended up being paired with a man named Rodney, who was probably in his mid 40’s. He wasn’t married, that I knew of anyway, and he lived in a modest house in not the best of neighborhoods. I received my orders to report to his house on a Saturday and he would let me know what my duties would be for the day.
Rodney answered the door with kind of a snarl on his face, looked me up and down and waved me inside. He was wearing a basic t-shirt and sweat pants. He was about 6 feet tall maybe 175 pounds, in pretty good shape it appeared. I came ready for work in a fitted t-shirt, leggings, and some running shoes. As I had kind of expected, Rodney wanted me to clean his house, which tidiness was obviously not his strong suit. No matter, I thought, I’ll get this place spiffed up right quick. Rodney had me start with laundry, which I spent pretty much all freakin’ day doing. It appeared he had been saving it up for me LOL. I was in good spirits though, doing my part I thought to myself.
Rodney didn’t say much, and at the end of the day after I had finished laundry and cleaned his bedroom and bathroom, he simply said,
“So I’m gonna need you back tomorrow ok.” I was pretty sure the rules were 8 hours of service per week, and I had already put in my 8 hours. But I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot so I cheerfully replied,
“Ok sounds good. See you tomorrow!”
John wasn’t much too happy to hear what I had volunteered for, and when I told him I had to go back again tomorrow he was downright pissed. But tomorrow he was going golfing with his buddies anyway so it’s not like we had plans or anything. I was sure he wasn’t going to bring up what I was doing with his buddies however.
The next morning I went back to Rodney’s house, dressed in a similar outfit. I knocked on the door but no answer. I knocked again and waited. I knocked a third time and finally heard movement in the house. Rodney answered the door in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, showing me that he was in fact in very good shape, fit and toned. Even though he was much older than John, his body put John’s to shame. He also had what appeared to be an erection, though I tried avert my eyes.
“You’re early” he muttered, and I just apologized even though it was after 10 o’clock in the morning. He had me start by sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor and he disappeared from the room. I swept everything up and looked around for a mop. I found a bucket but no mop, so I called into the bedroom to Rodney to see where the mop was.
“I don’t have a mop,” he said. “Just gonna have to use a sponge or a rag or something. PineSol is under the sink.”
WTF I thought to myself and suddenly was second guessing my choice for this community service crap. But I found a sponge and set about cleaning his kitchen floor on my hands and knees.
“How degrading,” I thought, but then checked myself as I thought maybe that was the point. Rodney was making sure I understood what this was about and now I was starting to get it. I re-committed myself to the process in that moment. Rodney appeared from the bedroom and sat down in a kitchen chair and just kind of watched me. He had put on a t-shirt but remained in his boxer briefs. I diverted eye contact with him but I could feel his eyes on me, and every now and then he would make a grunting sound and let out a muffled,
“Damn.”
Even though not looking directly at him I saw out of the corner of my eye he had his hand on his crotch kind of rubbing it a little. And what I had thought was an erection earlier left me unprepared for the enormous bulge in his underwear that he was currently half covering with his hand.
By now, the mop bucket was dirty and I stood up to change the water in the sink. I looked down and the knees of my white leggings were equally dirty. Rodney chuckled, but I was not amused. These were $100 LuluLemons and they might just be ruined.
“You probably shouldn’t be wearing ******* like that,” Rodney said.
“Yes, you are probably right,” I agreed, as I washed out the bucket and poured fresh water so I could finish.
“You might as well just take ‘em off,” he continued, but I just laughed nervously and continued dutifully cleaning his dirty floor. I approached where he was sitting and he made no attempt to move out of the way, so I literally mopped around him while he sat there and groped himself. He finally got up and went to the bathroom, and I completed the floor and waited for my next task. He came out of the bathroom and told me to clean it next. When I went in there I saw that he had peed all over the toilet. As I was cleaning up his mess I suddenly burst into tears, I couldn’t hold back, this was all just so humiliating. When I was finished I gathered myself and left the bathroom.
“I’ll see you next week,” Rodney smirked at me. “It’s going just fine, I promise.”
“Thank you,” I answered, not sure what I was thanking him for but somehow what he said was reassuring in a strange way.
All the way home my mind was just spinning. I felt so humiliated, yet my mind kept wandering to the image of Rodney’s hard cock bulging out of his boxers. I had not had thoughts like these ever since I had met the love of my life John, so what was going on with me?
I got home and immediately threw my leggings in the wash trying to get them clean. I took a shower and rubbed my clit so hard thinking about Rodney’s cock. What is wrong with me?
The whole next week I was actually looking forward to going back to Rodney’s if you can believe it. My LuluLemons were ruined so I trashed them. So much for this community service saving me my spending money, so far I was losing money. I got my service orders on Thursday, Rodney had requested me back so that was my assignment. I reminded myself that the whole point of this was simply to fulfill my duty as a white American and to keep my focus on that.
Of course Saturday morning rolled around and I had to hear ******* from John ridiculing me about my choice to do the community service but I mostly ignored him. I dressed in leggings again , this time an older pair, and a t-shirt from college that I had modified a bit to accentuate my assets. Nothing wrong with that was there?
I made sure to arrive after 11am and knocked on the door. This time Rodney answered in a white polo shirt and grey tennis shorts. He actually looked good. I smiled and said,
“Hello Rodney, nice to see you.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but he snarled at me,
“You’re late.”
As he ushered me through the door I noticed the place was trashed. He obviously had a party or something.
“Rodney?” I started.
“Yeah I had some of my partners over last night, sorry ‘bout the mess. But I guess you know what you gonna be doing today. You can get started here in the living room, I got some ******* to do but I’ll be back in a bit.”
And he was out the door. I set about cleaning up this mess, a fucking mess I’m telling you. Beer cans, plates of food with cigarette butts in them, stuff on the tables, on the floor, just disgusting. I don’t know what I was expecting, and was I disappointed he had left? Anyway, I worked my way from the living room to the kitchen, did a pile of dishes then looked at the kitchen floor. My nemesis. It looked like a hundred beers were spilled on it. My shoes stuck to it. Of course, no mop. I already knew that. Yes, these leggings weren’t new LuluLemons, but I still didn’t want to ruin another pair. After a hasty decision, I stepped out of them, leaving my Adidas on, and got to work on the floor with my sponge and bucket.
The next sound I heard caused me to freeze. The front door slamming closed. Before I could even start toward my pants, he was in the kitchen. I am there mopping his floor in my Victoria Secret satin panties and tennis shoes. I was mortified. Paralyzed. Stuttering, all I could say was,
“S-s-orry.”
Rodney just laughed.
“Girl I told you to do that ******* last time!” I laughed nervously and remained frozen on the floor on my hands and knees, half naked.
“Now take off your top,” he said.
I wasn’t surprised he said it, but I was more surprised at what happened next. I did exactly as I was told, peeling my shirt over my head, exposing my matching white bra with the gold bling V.S. front clasp. As I knelt there on his kitchen floor he let out a
“Damn girl,”
He approached me. I swallowed hard. Rodney stood before me and dropped his shorts and boxers to the floor, his half erect cock just inches from my face. It was huge, much larger than John’s, in fact bigger than any cock I had ever seen. I had only been with 3 men before in my life, all white men.
“Suck it,” Rodney growled, and again I obeyed. I wrapped both my hands around his shaft and struggled to open wide enough to get his thick head in my mouth. I stroked his shaft up and down with both hands, getting it wet with my saliva. My head bobbed up and down furiously, and he grabbed my pony tail and shoved his dick to the back of my throat. I couldn’t breathe and I gagged and almost vomited and snot came out of my nose. I looked up at him with tears coming out my eyes, and he backed his cock up, slowly fucking my mouth while keeping his hand firmly on the back of my head.
That’s a good little slut,” he said. “You’re my slut now.” And with that he scooped me up off the floor and laid me down on the kitchen table. I was in a fog, driven by lust and I knew he was right. He peeled off my panties which were soaking wet from my juices. He spit on the tip of his dick and stroked it up and down the length of his shaft, then he proceeded to press the head of that giant cock against my pussy slit. He continued to push it inside me, opening me up like never before.
“Oh my god,” escaped from my lips, as I felt like I was being split in two. My pussy gripped his dick as he slowly went in and out, each inward stroke going another inch or two deeper. It hurt in such an amazing way, I was breathing shallow breaths anticipating every stroke of his cock, watching it go in and out of me until I felt his balls touch my ass. I never would have thought that cock would fit in me, but he just smiled as he must have seen the look of disbelief on my face.
“I’m gonna fuck you like you never been fucked.”
And then, he did. He used that big dick on my pussy so good. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked. So long and so deep, I came harder than I ever have, touched in places that had never been touched. He wasn’t doing it for my benefit though, he fucked my like a rag doll, using my pussy for his pleasure. I couldn’t take much more, yet he was actually fucking me harder and faster, approaching his climax. Then he roared out as he came inside me, staying deep in me as his dick pulsed repeatedly until he was finished cumming.
No time for romance, he withdrew his cock from my gaping pussy and left the room. On the way out he said,
“Once you finish mopping the floor you can leave.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was snapped back to reality with immediate feelings of guilt and shame. What had I just done? And now he wants me to finish mopping his fucking floor? After lying on the table for a few more minutes I dragged myself up and did what he told me to do. Back on my hands and knees cleaning his floor with cum dripping down my leg. I was overcome with emotion and started sobbing. I was so disappointed in myself. I was disgusting, I had just cheated on my husband, how could I live with myself?
After I finished the floor I called in to Rodney,
“Hey would it be OK if I took a quick shower?”
“Hell no,” he replied. “You do that ******* at home.
I got dressed and drove home. Luckily John was not there and I was able to throw my soiled panties in the laundry and take a shower. When I got out I was literally walking bow legged my pussy was so sore. So sore in fact I had to make up an excuse to not have sex with John later that evening. I told him I was on my period and he left me alone.
The next morning I made the decision to to quit the community service program and just go back to paying the R.A tax. The only thing was it was scheduled out a week in advance so I was still on the hook for one more week of service. It was OK. I could do it, just do the work that was asked of me for one more week and that would be the end of it. John would never have to know and I would just play it off like he was right the whole time, I should have just stuck to paying my RA tax in the first place.
So over the next week my walk went back to normal even though my pussy was still a bit tender LOL. I focused on work and tried not to think of the upcoming weekend, but try as I might my mind kept wandering back to Rodney and his magnificent cock. I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, but I was determined to be a good wife and a good community servant and that was that.
Then Saturday rolled around and I was back on my way over to Rodney’s. I wore shorts this time (no worries about ruining my leggings!) and a halter tank top and arrived promptly at 10:30.
“You’re just cleaning the house today Beth,” I whispered under my breath while waiting for Rodney to answer the door. He opened up, again only in his boxer briefs, and I hurried past him inside.
“You can start in the bedroom,” he mumbled and I went straight in. Looking around, it actually looked pretty clean, nothing out of place except the bed was unmade. I turned to go ask him what he’d like me to do, but he was already there behind me. Startled, I managed,
“It looks pretty good to me!”
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
It was a direct order. I had no choice. I obeyed and did as I was told. I stripped naked for him, biting my bottom lip while looking him in his dark brooding eyes. I was his slut. He told me that and deep down I knew it, I had been fooling myself this past week. I laid back on the bed and he knelt between my legs and began licking my pussy. mom fucker he was good at that too. He licked me and fingered me to orgasm and I gushed as I came on his face. Then we fucked every which way and I found I really enjoyed mounting him and riding his immense shaft up and down. Sitting all the way down I could actually feel it up in my stomach. He filled me up so good, unlike John, who if I ever rode his little white dick was constantly popping out. But not Rodney. He made me feel like a new person, completely sexual, and I couldn’t get enough. He fucked me twice that day. And at least twice every weekend from there on. When I went over I rarely did any cleaning. It turns out he actually kept his house very clean. The mess was all just for me, to break me in. Sometimes he would text me during the week and I would go over to his house on my lunch break and we would fuck. Sometimes he would stop by my work and I would suck him off and fuck him in the parking lot. Whatever he wanted, I did. I was his slut.
Then one weekend I went over and when I arrived, some of his buddies were there. They were watching football and I was their naked server all day, making them food and getting them beers. I sat on their laps and they had their hands all over me. I didn’t have sex with them that day but over the next few months Rodney told me to fuck any of his friends that wanted to. And they all wanted to. And I fucked them all, probably 15 different guys. It didn’t matter any time of the day or night if Rodney texted me I got in my car and went where he told me to.
All this time John had been oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew all the time I was spending over at Rodney’s was no good. I denied anything was going on, and he couldn’t prove it until one night I came home after being over at Rodney’s. I had just been passed around by 3 of his buddies and they had fucked and cummed in every hole in my body. Rodney never let me shower and always made sure he sent me home smelling of cum and sex. I had taken to carrying wipes in the car and would try to clean up the best I could but this time I was literally drenched in cum. I didn’t think John would be home and thought I could get home and shower and clean myself up before he saw me. But when I pulled in the driveway John’s car was there.
“Oh *******!” I thought and I tried to hurry in the back door and change and get in the shower before John saw me. But as I was stepping out of my clothes John cornered me in the bathroom.
“Where the FUCK have you been!” he yelled. I tried to tell him I had just been doing housework over at Rodney’s but I was clearly a mess. I had dried cum in my hair and on my tits. John snatched my panties off the floor and they were also a mess, soaked with my cum and multiple loads from multiple men. Of course John didn’t know that part but it was obvious I had sex with someone and it sure wasn’t him. He kind took a look and a smell of my panties and flung them to the floor.
“What the fuck Beth! How long has this been going on?!” I really didn’t have the heart to tell him, or the desire to really. I had let my life spin out of control, yet at this point I wasn’t even really sorry. I knew John wasn’t the violent type and would never hit me. I just said,
“You don’t want to know,” and I got in the shower, leaving him reeling in a mix of emotions.
This is obviously not the end of the story but I’ll wrap it up with some final details.
First of all John filed for divorce. It made me sad because I didn’t want to divorce him and I didn’t want to hurt him. Even though I cheated on him and humiliated him as a man, the judge ended up awarding me the house, and on top of that, alimony. Sometimes life isn’t fair LOL. Soon after, he came crawling back to me, his heart was hurt and obviously his wallet was too. I still felt bad for him and I still had feelings for him so we reconciled. He is my rock and I feel safe with him.
So, it ended up pretty good for me. I get to have my cake and eat it too. I have the safety and security of having John as my husband, and I still get to go on dates too! When we got back together I told him my life had changed and if we were going to be together he was just going to have to accept it. And he did accept it. Rodney ended up moving away so that relationship ended. But when he did, John went out and bought me some clothing and jewelry to wear about town. A tank top with a big ‘QOS’ logo, a choker that reads ‘SLUT’, and an anklet with ‘hotwife’ in gold. I wear them everywhere and it gets me LOTS of attention. He is such a good guy and I am such a lucky girl!
And finally, the Reparations Act lasted for less than 2 years before it was repealed. It turns out it wasn’t very well thought out to begin with, and it wasn’t regulated well at all. People that were supposed to be being recompensed weren’t, some people were getting checks and community service both when they shouldn’t, and it turns out that the whole time black men everywhere had organized groups to exploit and use white women.
I was obviously one of them.
The Reparations Act
The Reparations Act. Nobody gave it much of a thought when a few years back a small faction of people from the liberal far left started making noise about how white people should be paying reparations to black people for the years of social and racial injustices that they had endured for so long. Like what did it even mean? During the tenure of the latest republican president most of these voices were squashed as nonsense and swept under the rug by most everyone except the SJW’s on the far left. Then, after the election the democrats took over the White House as well as the house and the senate. Some of the far left ended up in positions of power and over the next year more and more the talk of reparations gained steam and even though many were against it, the ones that were for it latched on to their cause and pushed harder and harder and yelled louder and louder until it actually became an idea that people were considering, from politicians to average citizens. People protested, lobbying for legislation involving some sort of restitution to black American citizens for the suffering they had endured at the hands of white people.
Then the day came and it became a law; The Reparations Act. Under the new law, white American citizens over the age 21 were required to pay a 2.5% tax on their earnings. The tax was then paid out to black and some indigenous citizens that applied and were approved to receive the money. Of course, it was determined that there should be some exceptions within the law, and the interpretations of the exceptions opened up some loopholes in the law.
For example, in lieu of paying the tax due to lack of income or other circumstances, a white person could sign up for community service in which they could pay their share by performing civic duties for a black person that signed up to receive the service in forfeit of their receiving a check in the mail. Failure to abide by the new law could result in a fine or even jail time.
On February 1, 2023, the president signed the law in to effect.
For most people, their lives remained relatively unchanged. Many people were able to absorb the 2.5% deduction in their pay without much trouble. Black people started receiving checks from the government, that although were not life changing, seemed to offer validation to many that they had been wronged on so many levels, and it was now being acknowledged. This seemed all well and good but behind the scenes, things were a little different. After a while and the money ended up being more of a token of good will than a real benefit, more and more black people started signing up to receive their reparations in the form of having white people performing their community service directly to them. They wanted to see white people uncomfortable so they really could understand what is was like to be in a black person’s shoes. Underground groups got together and started spreading ideas on how to exploit the system, and the law as it was written. And so, let me explain how that ended up affecting my life.
My name is Beth, and I am a white woman. I and 26 years old and am married to my white husband, John, who is considerably older than me at age 37. We met as coworkers and I’ve always been attracted to older men. We’ve been married for 3 years.
John treats me like a princess, he takes care of me and leaves me wanting nothing. We don’t work for the same company anymore, we decided it was best if we didn’t, but John makes considerably more money than I ever have. When the R.A. went into effect we both dutifully paid our tax and both agreed that it was a good thing, maybe me more so than John. It went on like this for a while but since my income was considered my spending money I soon started to miss the extra money. Without telling John I decided to to sign up for community service so I could keep my extra spending money for myself. I mean, what can I say, I like to shop!
The way it works is once signed up for community service, each white person is matched up with a black person who had also signed up to receive community service. It turns out, black women like to shop too and they mostly wanted to keep the extra money they had been receiving. And white men were too proud to be seen as weak or unable to pay their share, with the exception of a few beta boys that actually seemed proud to perform their civic duties. So if you’re keeping track, the people most often paired together were white women and black men.
I ended up being paired with a man named Rodney, who was probably in his mid 40’s. He wasn’t married, that I knew of anyway, and he lived in a modest house in not the best of neighborhoods. I received my orders to report to his house on a Saturday and he would let me know what my duties would be for the day.
Rodney answered the door with kind of a snarl on his face, looked me up and down and waved me inside. He was wearing a basic t-shirt and sweat pants. He was about 6 feet tall maybe 175 pounds, in pretty good shape it appeared. I came ready for work in a fitted t-shirt, leggings, and some running shoes. As I had kind of expected, Rodney wanted me to clean his house, which tidiness was obviously not his strong suit. No matter, I thought, I’ll get this place spiffed up right quick. Rodney had me start with laundry, which I spent pretty much all freakin’ day doing. It appeared he had been saving it up for me LOL. I was in good spirits though, doing my part I thought to myself.
Rodney didn’t say much, and at the end of the day after I had finished laundry and cleaned his bedroom and bathroom, he simply said,
“So I’m gonna need you back tomorrow ok.” I was pretty sure the rules were 8 hours of service per week, and I had already put in my 8 hours. But I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot so I cheerfully replied,
“Ok sounds good. See you tomorrow!”
John wasn’t much too happy to hear what I had volunteered for, and when I told him I had to go back again tomorrow he was downright pissed. But tomorrow he was going golfing with his buddies anyway so it’s not like we had plans or anything. I was sure he wasn’t going to bring up what I was doing with his buddies however.
The next morning I went back to Rodney’s house, dressed in a similar outfit. I knocked on the door but no answer. I knocked again and waited. I knocked a third time and finally heard movement in the house. Rodney answered the door in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, showing me that he was in fact in very good shape, fit and toned. Even though he was much older than John, his body put John’s to shame. He also had what appeared to be an erection, though I tried avert my eyes.
“You’re early” he muttered, and I just apologized even though it was after 10 o’clock in the morning. He had me start by sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor and he disappeared from the room. I swept everything up and looked around for a mop. I found a bucket but no mop, so I called into the bedroom to Rodney to see where the mop was.
“I don’t have a mop,” he said. “Just gonna have to use a sponge or a rag or something. PineSol is under the sink.”
WTF I thought to myself and suddenly was second guessing my choice for this community service crap. But I found a sponge and set about cleaning his kitchen floor on my hands and knees.
“How degrading,” I thought, but then checked myself as I thought maybe that was the point. Rodney was making sure I understood what this was about and now I was starting to get it. I re-committed myself to the process in that moment. Rodney appeared from the bedroom and sat down in a kitchen chair and just kind of watched me. He had put on a t-shirt but remained in his boxer briefs. I diverted eye contact with him but I could feel his eyes on me, and every now and then he would make a grunting sound and let out a muffled,
“Damn.”
Even though not looking directly at him I saw out of the corner of my eye he had his hand on his crotch kind of rubbing it a little. And what I had thought was an erection earlier left me unprepared for the enormous bulge in his underwear that he was currently half covering with his hand.
By now, the mop bucket was dirty and I stood up to change the water in the sink. I looked down and the knees of my white leggings were equally dirty. Rodney chuckled, but I was not amused. These were $100 LuluLemons and they might just be ruined.
“You probably shouldn’t be wearing ******* like that,” Rodney said.
“Yes, you are probably right,” I agreed, as I washed out the bucket and poured fresh water so I could finish.
“You might as well just take ‘em off,” he continued, but I just laughed nervously and continued dutifully cleaning his dirty floor. I approached where he was sitting and he made no attempt to move out of the way, so I literally mopped around him while he sat there and groped himself. He finally got up and went to the bathroom, and I completed the floor and waited for my next task. He came out of the bathroom and told me to clean it next. When I went in there I saw that he had peed all over the toilet. As I was cleaning up his mess I suddenly burst into tears, I couldn’t hold back, this was all just so humiliating. When I was finished I gathered myself and left the bathroom.
“I’ll see you next week,” Rodney smirked at me. “It’s going just fine, I promise.”
“Thank you,” I answered, not sure what I was thanking him for but somehow what he said was reassuring in a strange way.
All the way home my mind was just spinning. I felt so humiliated, yet my mind kept wandering to the image of Rodney’s hard cock bulging out of his boxers. I had not had thoughts like these ever since I had met the love of my life John, so what was going on with me?
I got home and immediately threw my leggings in the wash trying to get them clean. I took a shower and rubbed my clit so hard thinking about Rodney’s cock. What is wrong with me?
The whole next week I was actually looking forward to going back to Rodney’s if you can believe it. My LuluLemons were ruined so I trashed them. So much for this community service saving me my spending money, so far I was losing money. I got my service orders on Thursday, Rodney had requested me back so that was my assignment. I reminded myself that the whole point of this was simply to fulfill my duty as a white American and to keep my focus on that.
Of course Saturday morning rolled around and I had to hear ******* from John ridiculing me about my choice to do the community service but I mostly ignored him. I dressed in leggings again , this time an older pair, and a t-shirt from college that I had modified a bit to accentuate my assets. Nothing wrong with that was there?
I made sure to arrive after 11am and knocked on the door. This time Rodney answered in a white polo shirt and grey tennis shorts. He actually looked good. I smiled and said,
“Hello Rodney, nice to see you.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but he snarled at me,
“You’re late.”
As he ushered me through the door I noticed the place was trashed. He obviously had a party or something.
“Rodney?” I started.
“Yeah I had some of my partners over last night, sorry ‘bout the mess. But I guess you know what you gonna be doing today. You can get started here in the living room, I got some ******* to do but I’ll be back in a bit.”
And he was out the door. I set about cleaning up this mess, a fucking mess I’m telling you. Beer cans, plates of food with cigarette butts in them, stuff on the tables, on the floor, just disgusting. I don’t know what I was expecting, and was I disappointed he had left? Anyway, I worked my way from the living room to the kitchen, did a pile of dishes then looked at the kitchen floor. My nemesis. It looked like a hundred beers were spilled on it. My shoes stuck to it. Of course, no mop. I already knew that. Yes, these leggings weren’t new LuluLemons, but I still didn’t want to ruin another pair. After a hasty decision, I stepped out of them, leaving my Adidas on, and got to work on the floor with my sponge and bucket.
The next sound I heard caused me to freeze. The front door slamming closed. Before I could even start toward my pants, he was in the kitchen. I am there mopping his floor in my Victoria Secret satin panties and tennis shoes. I was mortified. Paralyzed. Stuttering, all I could say was,
“S-s-orry.”
Rodney just laughed.
“Girl I told you to do that ******* last time!” I laughed nervously and remained frozen on the floor on my hands and knees, half naked.
“Now take off your top,” he said.
I wasn’t surprised he said it, but I was more surprised at what happened next. I did exactly as I was told, peeling my shirt over my head, exposing my matching white bra with the gold bling V.S. front clasp. As I knelt there on his kitchen floor he let out a
“Damn girl,”
He approached me. I swallowed hard. Rodney stood before me and dropped his shorts and boxers to the floor, his half erect cock just inches from my face. It was huge, much larger than John’s, in fact bigger than any cock I had ever seen. I had only been with 3 men before in my life, all white men.
“Suck it,” Rodney growled, and again I obeyed. I wrapped both my hands around his shaft and struggled to open wide enough to get his thick head in my mouth. I stroked his shaft up and down with both hands, getting it wet with my saliva. My head bobbed up and down furiously, and he grabbed my pony tail and shoved his dick to the back of my throat. I couldn’t breathe and I gagged and almost vomited and snot came out of my nose. I looked up at him with tears coming out my eyes, and he backed his cock up, slowly fucking my mouth while keeping his hand firmly on the back of my head.
That’s a good little slut,” he said. “You’re my slut now.” And with that he scooped me up off the floor and laid me down on the kitchen table. I was in a fog, driven by lust and I knew he was right. He peeled off my panties which were soaking wet from my juices. He spit on the tip of his dick and stroked it up and down the length of his shaft, then he proceeded to press the head of that giant cock against my pussy slit. He continued to push it inside me, opening me up like never before.
“Oh my god,” escaped from my lips, as I felt like I was being split in two. My pussy gripped his dick as he slowly went in and out, each inward stroke going another inch or two deeper. It hurt in such an amazing way, I was breathing shallow breaths anticipating every stroke of his cock, watching it go in and out of me until I felt his balls touch my ass. I never would have thought that cock would fit in me, but he just smiled as he must have seen the look of disbelief on my face.
“I’m gonna fuck you like you never been fucked.”
And then, he did. He used that big dick on my pussy so good. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked. So long and so deep, I came harder than I ever have, touched in places that had never been touched. He wasn’t doing it for my benefit though, he fucked my like a rag doll, using my pussy for his pleasure. I couldn’t take much more, yet he was actually fucking me harder and faster, approaching his climax. Then he roared out as he came inside me, staying deep in me as his dick pulsed repeatedly until he was finished cumming.
No time for romance, he withdrew his cock from my gaping pussy and left the room. On the way out he said,
“Once you finish mopping the floor you can leave.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was snapped back to reality with immediate feelings of guilt and shame. What had I just done? And now he wants me to finish mopping his fucking floor? After lying on the table for a few more minutes I dragged myself up and did what he told me to do. Back on my hands and knees cleaning his floor with cum dripping down my leg. I was overcome with emotion and started sobbing. I was so disappointed in myself. I was disgusting, I had just cheated on my husband, how could I live with myself?
After I finished the floor I called in to Rodney,
“Hey would it be OK if I took a quick shower?”
“Hell no,” he replied. “You do that ******* at home.
I got dressed and drove home. Luckily John was not there and I was able to throw my soiled panties in the laundry and take a shower. When I got out I was literally walking bow legged my pussy was so sore. So sore in fact I had to make up an excuse to not have sex with John later that evening. I told him I was on my period and he left me alone.
The next morning I made the decision to to quit the community service program and just go back to paying the R.A tax. The only thing was it was scheduled out a week in advance so I was still on the hook for one more week of service. It was OK. I could do it, just do the work that was asked of me for one more week and that would be the end of it. John would never have to know and I would just play it off like he was right the whole time, I should have just stuck to paying my RA tax in the first place.
So over the next week my walk went back to normal even though my pussy was still a bit tender LOL. I focused on work and tried not to think of the upcoming weekend, but try as I might my mind kept wandering back to Rodney and his magnificent cock. I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, but I was determined to be a good wife and a good community servant and that was that.
Then Saturday rolled around and I was back on my way over to Rodney’s. I wore shorts this time (no worries about ruining my leggings!) and a halter tank top and arrived promptly at 10:30.
“You’re just cleaning the house today Beth,” I whispered under my breath while waiting for Rodney to answer the door. He opened up, again only in his boxer briefs, and I hurried past him inside.
“You can start in the bedroom,” he mumbled and I went straight in. Looking around, it actually looked pretty clean, nothing out of place except the bed was unmade. I turned to go ask him what he’d like me to do, but he was already there behind me. Startled, I managed,
“It looks pretty good to me!”
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”
It was a direct order. I had no choice. I obeyed and did as I was told. I stripped naked for him, biting my bottom lip while looking him in his dark brooding eyes. I was his slut. He told me that and deep down I knew it, I had been fooling myself this past week. I laid back on the bed and he knelt between my legs and began licking my pussy. mom fucker he was good at that too. He licked me and fingered me to orgasm and I gushed as I came on his face. Then we fucked every which way and I found I really enjoyed mounting him and riding his immense shaft up and down. Sitting all the way down I could actually feel it up in my stomach. He filled me up so good, unlike John, who if I ever rode his little white dick was constantly popping out. But not Rodney. He made me feel like a new person, completely sexual, and I couldn’t get enough. He fucked me twice that day. And at least twice every weekend from there on. When I went over I rarely did any cleaning. It turns out he actually kept his house very clean. The mess was all just for me, to break me in. Sometimes he would text me during the week and I would go over to his house on my lunch break and we would fuck. Sometimes he would stop by my work and I would suck him off and fuck him in the parking lot. Whatever he wanted, I did. I was his slut.
Then one weekend I went over and when I arrived, some of his buddies were there. They were watching football and I was their naked server all day, making them food and getting them beers. I sat on their laps and they had their hands all over me. I didn’t have sex with them that day but over the next few months Rodney told me to fuck any of his friends that wanted to. And they all wanted to. And I fucked them all, probably 15 different guys. It didn’t matter any time of the day or night if Rodney texted me I got in my car and went where he told me to.
All this time John had been oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew all the time I was spending over at Rodney’s was no good. I denied anything was going on, and he couldn’t prove it until one night I came home after being over at Rodney’s. I had just been passed around by 3 of his buddies and they had fucked and cummed in every hole in my body. Rodney never let me shower and always made sure he sent me home smelling of cum and sex. I had taken to carrying wipes in the car and would try to clean up the best I could but this time I was literally drenched in cum. I didn’t think John would be home and thought I could get home and shower and clean myself up before he saw me. But when I pulled in the driveway John’s car was there.
“Oh *******!” I thought and I tried to hurry in the back door and change and get in the shower before John saw me. But as I was stepping out of my clothes John cornered me in the bathroom.
“Where the FUCK have you been!” he yelled. I tried to tell him I had just been doing housework over at Rodney’s but I was clearly a mess. I had dried cum in my hair and on my tits. John snatched my panties off the floor and they were also a mess, soaked with my cum and multiple loads from multiple men. Of course John didn’t know that part but it was obvious I had sex with someone and it sure wasn’t him. He kind took a look and a smell of my panties and flung them to the floor.
“What the fuck Beth! How long has this been going on?!” I really didn’t have the heart to tell him, or the desire to really. I had let my life spin out of control, yet at this point I wasn’t even really sorry. I knew John wasn’t the violent type and would never hit me. I just said,
“You don’t want to know,” and I got in the shower, leaving him reeling in a mix of emotions.
This is obviously not the end of the story but I’ll wrap it up with some final details.
First of all John filed for divorce. It made me sad because I didn’t want to divorce him and I didn’t want to hurt him. Even though I cheated on him and humiliated him as a man, the judge ended up awarding me the house, and on top of that, alimony. Sometimes life isn’t fair LOL. Soon after, he came crawling back to me, his heart was hurt and obviously his wallet was too. I still felt bad for him and I still had feelings for him so we reconciled. He is my rock and I feel safe with him.
So, it ended up pretty good for me. I get to have my cake and eat it too. I have the safety and security of having John as my husband, and I still get to go on dates too! When we got back together I told him my life had changed and if we were going to be together he was just going to have to accept it. And he did accept it. Rodney ended up moving away so that relationship ended. But when he did, John went out and bought me some clothing and jewelry to wear about town. A tank top with a big ‘QOS’ logo, a choker that reads ‘SLUT’, and an anklet with ‘hotwife’ in gold. I wear them everywhere and it gets me LOTS of attention. He is such a good guy and I am such a lucky girl!
And finally, the Reparations Act lasted for less than 2 years before it was repealed. It turns out it wasn’t very well thought out to begin with, and it wasn’t regulated well at all. People that were supposed to be being recompensed weren’t, some people were getting checks and community service both when they shouldn’t, and it turns out that the whole time black men everywhere had organized groups to exploit and use white women.
I was obviously one of them.
