SHANGOReturns!

Suggesting to the Wife Too many things are apt to go wrong when it comes to a husband telling/suggesting to the wife about cucking him.  For one thing, I would inform most husbands to always expect the worse the moment they open their mouth explaining to their wives about their innermost desires as with the Cuckold lifestyle. Expect her to look appalled and respond with a flat ‘NO’.  Expect her not to talk to you for the rest of the day; expect her to yell at you never to bring up such subject or topic ever again. Those things and even more should be expected.  But it mustn’t deter a husband from taking a leap forward with his desires.  How else will he ascertain if he would win or not? I’m going to make this essay as brief as I possibly can.  I want to cut through all the lengthy talk and see about summarizing most husbands’ plight toward suggesting this Cuckold idea to their wives are hanging on to two determining factors they must take note of.  Those important things

The BLACK-OWNED Invasion Comes! Picture a married man walking down the street, or even better, sitting at a park bench and staring into the distance.  His eyes are lost in thought.  Your impression might be that he’s got money matters or personal problems on his mind.  What he’s actually thinking about, however, just might surprise you.  You do not stand patiently enough to see his eyes spot an interracial couple strolling past him for you to become aware of the subtle light now reflected in his eyes.  Clearly it’s obvious that his thoughts has to do with this passing couple.  He’s probably wondering a couples of things at once: where they are from; how did they meet?  Is the white woman married?  And if by chance she is married, does her husband approve of this Black man that’s walking beside her?  And most importantly the man asked himself: Wouldn’t it be great if that was my wife? Every husband would love to have the answer to this question.  The intention

A Snowbunny's Confessional I walk into the hotel carrying a slip of paper. It’s a decrepit building in North-East DC. On the paper is a number, a room number. I knock. "Come in!" I walk in. You are standing there, confident, powerful. "What do you want?"  I stammer "I have come to ask for forgiveness for my sins and the sins of my ancestors, Sir" "Confess!" you bark at me. "My people, I mean I, we, we, we white people have exploited Africans. We colonized your lands, we took your resources, we enslaved your people. I am sorry". "You expect me to forgive you just like that?" you ask. "No Sir, I have come to earn forgiveness by making up for past injustices". "You are trying to buy forgiveness?"  "No Sir. I want to willingly submit to the  degradation  that your people had to suffer. I choose to be a white slave to my black master." That