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Blacked by My Mom's New Boyfriend!

by Anita Blackmann

Copyright 2018 Anita Blackmann

Published by Deadlier Than the Male Publications

All characters in this story are 18 and over.

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Table of Contents


Blacked by My Mom's New Boyfriend!

Fawn, Part 1

Claire, Part 1

Fawn, Part 2

Claire, Part 2

Bonus Material: My First Time Was an Interracial Menage on My Wedding Night (And My Husband Wasn't Invited!)

About the Author

Other Books by Anita Blackmann

Connect With Anita Blackmann


"You fucking little pervert," he growled. He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck forced my head downward. "Is this what you came to see, you little whore?" I said nothing as I found my eyes mere inches from the biggest fucking cock I had ever seen. He shook me and squeezed a little harder. "Well, is it?!"

"Y-y-yes," I stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." I think we both knew that was a lie.

"Your words are meaningless, you little cunt," he growled. "What would your mom think?"

I love my mom. Sure, I was jealous of her success in landing a real man like John and I wanted him more than anything in the world but I also didn't want to do anything to hurt her. "Please don't tell her," I pleaded. "I'm sorry!"

But here's the strange thing, the rougher he was with me, the wetter my pussy got and the more every fiber of my being cried out for his touch. I realized I would do anything to be with him, right then. I would even go so far, I knew, as to betray my own mother. And then he said the magic words.

"I don't care," he growled, pushing me to my knees. "Suck my cock you little white whore!"

I gulped...

Blacked by My Mom's New Boyfriend!

Anita Blackmann


"Fawn!" my mother screamed! Oh, shit! I thought. This is probably the wrong time to be bouncing up and down on my mom's black boyfriend's cock! And John would probably throw me under the bus, too, saying I was asking for it. And do you know what...? He'd be right!

I probably should back up a bit.

I think my parent's divorce was a long time coming. It had been obvious to me when I was twelve or thirteen that they were no longer in love with each other. Like a lot of couples, they stuck with it, probably for me. I don't know if Dad cheated on Mom first or if it was the other way around but soon they were arguing, almost nonstop. Sure, they did it behind closed doors and tried to keep their voices down but the walls were never quite as thick as they thought they were.

Dad finally moved out when I was seventeen and about six or seven months later, they were divorced. Dad actually moved in with his woman. Oddly, she was a little older than Mom and I think she wasn't nearly as attractive as Mom was, either, but… Well, how I put this delicately? I don't think there is a way. The woman was a slut. She dressed like a slut. She acted like a slut. Her tits were always slopping out of her top and every time she bent over, you could see right into next week. I guess Mom was just a little too prudish for Dad's tastes.

Mom, on the other hand, was dating some dude at work. Honestly, he was a bit of a shmuck. Mom brought him over once or twice, then dumped him. I think she only started going with him because my dad had someone and once he was out of the picture, the novelty wore off. Then again, it could've been because of her boss.

John Franklin was a big man, like, all over. He worked out, he was smart, he wasn't one to take lip. He was the man who told people to jump and expected them to already know just how high they were supposed to do it. He was articulate and dressed well and people respected him. Or feared him. Either way, he was the very definition of an alpha male.

And, oh yeah, he was black.

Mom found out the fun way that she had a taste for chocolate. One day, she just showed up with him. It was shortly after my eighteenth birthday. I was hanging out with my friend, Bethany when she came home with him for the first time.

We couldn't believe it, the way he was manhandling her, groping her and violating her, right in front of the both of us. We probably both wanted to leave and go hide in my room, I know I did, but I was afraid to cause a scene. Fortunately, they were only there long enough for my mom to make introductions, then they were off to her room.

They were so loud, there was nowhere you could get away from the sound of her screams and wails of ecstasy. Even from outside, with the windows closed, you could hear her. Bethany teased the hell out of me and I told my best friend shut the fuck up. The truth be told, the sounds they were making made my pussy wet as hell.

He was over, night and day, after that. Any time they weren't at work, they were at the house. Sometimes, I walked in on them fooling around when I came home from hanging out with my friends. Fortunately, it wasn't like I saw anything of my mom. That would've been really uncomfortable. The rest the time, they were in her room. Honestly, John was insatiable!

At first, the whole situation kind of made me feel a bit nauseous because half of it was Mom. But quickly, that gave way to my more basic instincts. I found myself fingering myself, over and over, listening to them fucking, through the thin walls.

And sure, I never saw any of my mom's private parts but I definitely could see John's. No, not blatantly, but it was really obvious from the massive bulge in his pants that he was hung like the devil. It was hard to get an exact size, though, because the rest of him was just so big. I guessed it to be about nine inches and that was far bigger than any other real-life dick I had ever seen.

I would slip into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I had my shorts off in an instant and my fingers crammed underneath my panties and deep into my juicy cunt, even as I was sliding onto my bed. Even though she usually had a head start, I would often beat Mom to an orgasm. It was all I could do to not scream out, "OH, GOD, JOHN! FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG BLACK COCK!!!"

Soon, instead of avoiding them, I tried to run into them more often. If I heard Mom say that she was going to take a shower and I heard John go out to the living room or the kitchen, I would make an excuse to go out there, too. I would often "accidentally" run into him, frequently wearing as little as possible. I would leave the button undone on my short shorts, sometimes showing a glimpse of the elastic of my panties or a bit of flesh to let him know I wasn't wearing any.

And I would wear the tiniest tops, too, with no brassiere underneath. Of course, my nipples were always hard as rocks. I didn't even have to do anything to them, just the fact that I was so close to him turned me on. I would find any excuse to bounce or to bend over, always at the waist, never at the knees, unless I wanted to give him a shot of my wide-spread thighs and my little, itty-bitty panties.

I liked it best when we were in the kitchen, as I could rummage through the fridge with my tight ass bobbing back and forth and then pop back up with some sort of phallic-shaped food that I would then suck into my mouth. I would always give him a cute, coy smile, then bounce out of the room. I knew it was having an effect on him because he almost always went back into Mom's bedroom and fucked her the moment she was out of the shower. And, of course, I was back in my bedroom, masturbating to the sounds of them fucking.

Since it was to be my last summer at home, before I went off to college in the fall, I had agreed to spend two weeks at Dad's place. Holy shit, I thought I would go nuts! Dad told me the slut's name but I never really bothered to learn it and have since forgotten what it is. She rode him, constantly, and not in a good way. She had him wrapped around her finger and she knew it. It disgusted me how just weak he was. Has he always been like this? I wondered. No wonder Mom had to go out and find herself a real man.

My lust for John knew no bounds. I thought about him, day and night, fingering myself again and again. If there had been any black guys within a 5-mile radius of Dad's place, I would've jumped their bones, no question about it. But Dad had moved way out into the suburbs, near the edge, right about where the city meets the farmlands. You know, where the housing is cheap but very, very white.

And me without a car!

But my prison sentence was short-lived. Soon, I was back at the old family house with Mom and John. A total of six weeks had passed since graduation and five since I turned eighteen. I didn't have that many weeks left before I headed off to school. I redoubled my efforts.

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