Marriage with Melinda

It made her hot, the thought of a black American cock penetrating her white Australian pussy and leaving his warm cum as a gift. It made her laugh, the idea of her black baby coming into her nine months before a black baby came out of her. It made her smile, the notion of her naturally tanned child being able to play outdoors in the sun, something she could never do in Perth due to her paleness.

All she had to do was to figure out a way to get him to fuck her without a condom on. She would become pregnant, and tell Travis that although she wasn’t the most devout person in the world, she was still Catholic, and that the idea of terminating the pregnancy would be out of the question. This would not be manipulation, she reasoned. He can be a good father. He can be a great father. And, above all, I want more than anything in this world to be the mother of his children.

—

On a Saturday night in June, in the large Manhattan condo they now shared, with work colleagues from both firms in attendance, Travis Roberts and Melinda Kelly exchanged vows and rings in front of a justice of the peace. Melinda felt blessed to be marrying this lovely man, his smooth cocoa skin covered by a black suit, crisp white shirt and blue tie. Travis was enthralled by the sight of his bride, whose long red hair fell over the back of a dress that was almost indistinguishable from her alabaster skin.