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Scared I will Never Get a White Woman Pregnant
I am in my late 40s.I am so scared that I will grow old and die without having a child with a white woman.
I am in my late 40s.I am so scared that I will grow old and die without having a child with a white woman.
I did as you recommended. No, I didn't place an ad; I couldn't expose myself (at least not yet) to that kind of exposure risk. So I just started interacting with and engaging more black men. Everywhere I went I did precisely what you said. I smiled. I spoke. I guess you could say I flirted. I did all of that without an agenda, just to see what would happen. On the third day (yes, that's right: it only took three days), I had a black man -- not previously known to me -- ask me out on a date, knowing I was married. I went. It was just a lunch together, but it quickly became more heated than I expected. And when he asked to ** me, I immediately said yes. Then, on the eighth day, the same thing happened with a man I had met several times before, and who knows my husband through his work. The risk was greater, of course, due to the connection to my husband, but taking that chance was part of the thrill. We went on multiple dates after that and he ** me every single time, and sometimes it was I who called and asked to be **. The most recent -- and most promising -- black connection was made through one of my local charities, a fellow board member on a committee I chair, much younger than me and even younger than some of my children. There isn't enough space here to elaborate, though I may do so at some point, because I think you need to know about it, and you certainly deserve to know about it. You told me that sometimes "one's needs simply transcend the institution of marriage and its vows" and I took that to heart in my meeting of black men, so you deserve to hear it. I will, during the holidays perhaps, share this incredibly promising relationship with you. For now, however, I will just thank you so much for enlightening me to the 21st century view of love.
Hi New Age Lady:). You have evolved and it sounds as if you underwent a transformation...a metamorphosis of sorts, in no time. I cannot explain the excitement I have felt from reading your post.What I continue to lament is that this site does not date and time stamp posts,meaning we(I) have no clue when you posted this. With that aside,I must thank you for going out and making yourself,and some deserving brothers, happy.As normal human beings,our desires in life include being sexually satisfied, happy, and some of that may just come from sharing our bodies,thoughts and feeling with another or others(please google and read "10 Common Desires of Human Beings").I can tell from the way you explained these encounters that your cravings have either been quenched or enkindled. Either way,you are now, and forever, a totally different woman from whom and what you have been your whole life!I am so turned on by your efforts and enjoyment that I cannot wait to hear from you about the much younger guy you mentioned. Keep sharing.I wish you a Happy New (Year) Life!
I had intended to respond sooner, but to be honest, I had been too busy dating. Between my first post and last week, I had been on dates with 14 different black men, some of whom became affair partners (the rest I just dated 2-3 times). The one I saw the most was my husband's work contact (a client, of sorts), and the one I loved the most was the very young one from my committee. Sadly, I am no longer dating. I say "sadly", though I am actually heartbroken by it. I very quickly became addicted to black men and black meat, having had no idea that my appetites would explode as they did (my sexuality was much different than I imagined), and simply could not get enough black ** into my small, thin body. I was completely enjoying myself, until last week when I was at home in bed with my husband's black colleague. I heard my husband's car enter the driveway, and I very nearly had a stroke. Seriously, I just lost my mind and could not function for fear of discovery. I thought I had anticipated the feeling of that properly, planning for the eventuality, but my plan to back my husband down by ** if I was caught failed me. I was not caught, thank God, and my lover escaped due to my alternative planning (my Plan B, if my dominating Plan A failed, which it did), so all is well with my marriage, except for the fact that I am no longer involved with any black men. And my intention to become impregnated by my very young, very black lover was thwarted. Plus, I miss my husband's black friend more than I can describe. But I know for a fact that I cannot get caught because I cannot handle the feeling of it, and I didn't even actually get caught but only experienced a close call. In addition, I feel that I have made myself a disappointment to you, for whom I have feelings that I can't explain, although some of the reason for that is that you are the only one with whom I shared my feelings for the black men in my life, and the only one who encouraged me. I'm so sorry.
I have been awaiting your reply,checking here once in a while.I am very happy to read the update,although am dismayed that you are somewhat sad about the sudden change or end of things. I am not at all disappointed in you;I am actually ecstatic! This is why: you had an overwhelming urge to experience a black man,you did not just sit there,you went out and lived the experience almost to your heart's content.You were hoping for a single experience but you had many.You will never have that feeling of missing out,or wishing you had done something.I am glad you did not get caught,but am dying to know in detail how you and your lover escaped capture by using plan B.I can also promise you that its probably not over yet between you and hubby's work contact guy. its a matter of time before your ** longs for him again, and your car finds its way to his whereabouts.You may still end up getting knocked up by him someday.You have had an experience of a lifetime and you deserve it. “There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.”-Nelson Mandela.
My Plan B was to have my lover put his clothes in the family room at the back of the house while we **, so when my husband arrived in the driveway, and I then realized that I did not have the nerve to confront him with my infidelity directly, I rushed the man back there. He dressed and left through the side door, walked through the hedge to the business on the adjacent street (I couldn't have a stranger's car in the driveway even if I wasn't ever caught; plus, he could have gotten blocked in, without escape), and went back to the bedroom, feigning sickness and fever, thus explaining the wet sheets smelling of sweat. It was a close call, and I can still feel the fear inside of me. Alas, as you expected, I can also still feel the desire inside of me. So far, my husband's business colleague has respected my wishes to remain apart, though I don't know how much longer we can do that: our "** me" emails and texts are increasing in number and in heat. My younger man, though, has not honored the separation at all and has shown up at my office on over a dozen occasions since the "episode" with the other man. The first two times, I got him to leave because my assistant was present. After that, he came to me when he knew I'd be alone, and he preyed upon what he knew was (and still is) my physical desire and need for his child. And in doing so, he had me. I cannot stop him. He wants to knock me up and he knows I want that, too. But we both know that I cannot do that at my age without medical intervention. I cannot go to my obgyn with this matter (he knows my husband), so my young man has scheduled an appointment for me with a physician he knows. I don't know where this leads, but I suspect that I will very soon reunite with my husband's work connection, too, because that relationship is so special to me, and because the risks are invigorating and thrilling. Every day I feel like more of a **, and this is something I do not seem to be able to control any longer.