SHANGOReturns!

A 'Black-Owned' hubby knows where his place is, whether at home or elsewhere at work. He knows and understands perfectly well that someone has taken over the position he once thought he occupied, thus freeing from whatever requirements that prior to them he felt burdened about. The wife too takes her place beside her Master as his toy and personal sex slut, no longer to dispel herself to the whim of the hubby. --------------------- BLACK MASTER SHANGO’s vehicle was still parked in his driveway when he arrived there.  He came down from his car with his briefcase in hand and went and tried the door handle, but it didn’t open for him.  He pressed the doorbell and waited, tapping his feet on the ground till almost a minute later he heard lock turn.  To his surprise, it wasn’t Shango or his wife that opened the door, but another black man, standing there smiling at him, sipping a can of beer in his hand.  It took Tim seconds to remember him as the office...

  Why I Prefer Black Men Here's an essay from an upper-class white woman who talks about her erotic preference for Black men and why she's never going back . . *  *  *  * How many white men can treat a woman like a lady and ravish her?  Black skin is thick and lush, sensuous to the touch, like satin and velvet made flesh.  There's only one patch of skin on a white man's body that remotely compares to nearly every inch of a black man's skin.  The first time I caressed black skin, it felt like a luxury I shouldn't be able to afford.  That phrase, "Once you go black, you never go back" is all about the feeling of the skin. And I had the socially acceptable explanation for my craving.  I used that paucity-of-available-white-partners rationale to explain my relationships with black men for several years.  A white woman past forty is often passed over by her white-male contemporaries.  She goes younger or et...

Enjoy an excerpt of one of my classic erotic novels Mr. Tibbs . And when you get done reading through the first chapter, get in touch with me via email or social media and tell me that the first chapter didn't really get you hard/wet. *  *  *  *  * There came a rustling sound followed by my wife’s moaning voice. The sound of that voice whenever it moaned was much too familiar to me; it always got me going anytime I listened to it. The room was dark and I lay there on my back beside the bed trying to adjust my eyes to the bedroom’s darkness. Beside me the bed was shaking. I heard what sounded like kisses. It was followed by a loud smack, then the sound of my wife bursting into giggles. It was late in the night. The glowing dial of my watch stated the time as 02:27 a.m. My wife was in bed with her lover, Mr. Tibbs. He was a black man in his mid-thirties, tall and with an impressive athletic stature like that of an NBA player, and bore an uncanny r...