Since my divorce, I have come to realize that the reason why I married my ex-wife was because of one thing, a fetish I had for black women. Throughout my formative years, my parents always spoke ill of black people because they were viewed as a social threat. After I was able to unerstand that their hatred was based on fear, I thought that my life would be that change to bridge the legacy of racism in my family. I began dating black women during my senior year in high school.
By the time I reached college, being with a black woman was the norm for me. Yes, we received a lot of grief from both black s and whites about our realitionship in Atlanta. But, I began to notice that the attraction was more physical than anything else. I rarely had to do anything besides work and the ladies took care of me in every way. In some ways I felt guilty, because many of them told me that they would never treat a black man that good because they did not deserve it.
I quickly noticed that anything I wanted to do with them in the bed-room was game including threesomes, oral, anal,and more. They even spoke differently with the higher pitched voice and pseudo correct English around me and my friends. When I married my ex, it was out of pity and my own selfish desires. In some ways it raised her self-esteem as evidenced when she would brag to her other girlfriends about being married to a well-to-do white man. Just to test the waters and see how far I could go with her as I had done with so many others, I only took her out to black venues and dared not to do so among some of my more affluent friends.
I never had resentment toward ayone, but understood that her large breasts, big round butt, and dark choclate skin were the elements she possessed that I could not resist. The main reason for our divorce came about from an argument when she thought it would be a cool idea for her to dress-up as a slave girl and me dressing as a Confederate General for a Halloween Pary. I then began to look at her differently from that night forward. When we met, she wore her own hair. When we separated, she cut her hair and had a platinum blond haur-weave, fake finger-nails, and blue contact lenses. Interestingly, if I wanted to marry a white woman, I would not go for a half-ass imitation.
I am happy these days with a wonderful black woman that has my heart and even though she arouses me sexually, there is far more to her than that. She is an equal partner and someone that has her own defined identity.
Allan P.– Columbus. GA