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  ‘White Man of the House’

  By Laisha Lax

  Copyright © 2014 Laisha Lax

  Cover image licensed by Depositphotos

  WARNING: This 6000 word story contains explicit descriptions of sex. Story contains a fetish some readers might not enjoy – INTERRACIAL TABOO BREEDING, TABOO PREGANCNY AND PSEUDOINCEST HARDCORE SEX. All characters are adult. Reader discretion is advised. All characters are adult. Reader discretion is advised. Everybody is 18+.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Adult Reading Material

  ‘White Man of the House’

  Like many times before, I was sitting at the kitchen’s table, waiting for my mom to return from the school after the parent’s meeting where they have been reported about our success, or in my case - failure. Thoughts about how angry she would be were stuck in my mind, looping like a pendulum. My hands were sweating and my legs were restless. I felt like crying, and in the same time I felt as if I could scratch the wooden table with my fingernails out of pure nervousness that was tackling. Why was she such a bitch to me? Why she couldn’t just accept the fact that I wasn’t born to be a new Noble price winner? Modeling agents were already fighting for me and my perfect body. Calculating how many dollars I could earn per modeling session was the only math I really needed. Maybe it was only because she never supported me or encouraged me to do anything else. She was always telling me how I’d never be anything in my life and how I’ll never be able to do something special. It was like she programmed me to believe that I was nothing but the failure and sitting on the table was only the reminder of that poisonous feeling.

  When I heard her car arriving, my heart rushed and adrenaline blocked my mind. My hands were slowly trembling and I had to cross my legs to keep them calm. I prepared myself for her loud voice, and angry, disappointed look on her face. I startled upon hearing the loud smack of the car’s door. She had never hit me before, but many times she was on the verge to do so and I clenched my fist to defend myself if needed.

  She unlocked the doors and walked inside of the house. The business suit was just as it had been the morning she left the house. She didn’t even look at me, but I was surprised to see her face calm. She didn’t seem mad or disappointed at all. She was silent and I was confused more than ever. I was expecting to have the worst night in my life, but it seemed as if she didn’t care at all. How?

  I relaxed my fist and my legs, making few deep breaths to relax my body. She must have heard my heavy sigh and tense tapping sound that I did with my fingers on the table. Should I just start explaining how and why I failed math or should I just remain silent and wait for her to do the first move.

  After leaving her coat and shoes she just walked across the living room into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine without dropping a single look at me. Her calmness was making me uneasy. The tension in me was rising and I felt as if she could burst in any given second. Please say something! I screamed in myself, but she just stood there, staring out of the kitchen’s window, her back turned towards me. There was no way for me knowing what she felt or what was on her mind. It was scary not to know because my mind expected the worst. If she would be screaming, telling me how stupid I was, at least I would know what was going on, this way she kept me in edgy, terrifying darkness.

  “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I failed math?” I uttered, carefully with an ounce of fear that she could detect in the tremble of my voice.

  “No,” she said, sharply, and drank one sip of the wine. Her sight was still locked at something outside. I remained silent, staring at her in total wonder of what was going on. Sweat was dripping down my legs and I had to put special attention to keep myself sitting on a chair. I thought how in any given second she would explode like a volcano.

  “Mom?” I said, as if I wanted to check was she actually there.

  “Look, Charlotte, I don’t care anymore!” she said, in high pitch and turned to me with the eyes in despair, “I don’t care anymore if you fail or succeed. I did all I could to help you, but you don’t seem to care at all. Forever you’ll be a stupid black with big boobs who’ll need to fuck to get the money!” she said in one single breath, she was on the verge of yelling.

  At least she said something. I didn’t care anymore how she was seeing me or what she thought about my future. All I wanted was to get through her preach and go to my room.

  “I don’t care because I don’t see you as my daughter anymore, I don’t care what happens to you. I disown you. You don’t listen and there’s nothing I could do anymore.”

  She’d disown me? Should I be happy or sad? At surface I thought that it was a good thing, but my heart didn’t like to hear that. No matter how bad mother she had been, mother was a mother and the fact that she wanted to disown me was hurtful. I shed few tears down my face, but I held the rest. For some reason, a bright kitchen light started to bother me.

  We were looking at each other for a brief moment, but then she turned her eyes away, grabbed her glass and sipped a little bit of wine, staring outside through the window. I felt crushed, I wasn’t nervous anymore. Deep sadness spread through my chest like a balloon filled with heavy water.

  Right at that moment, her new boyfriend entered the house. Because of the noise and all the fuss, I’ve missed the sound of his car and the doors. I always wondered where she got that rich white man. When he came in he stood motionless for a second or two, altering his sight between me and my mother. It wasn’t the first time he witnessed our fight and for the most part he tried to stay out of it even though I could feel by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t condoning her way of parenting. Nevertheless, handsome Marcus didn’t intervene. Maybe it was better for him not to oppose her, but more than once I’ve seen him at the verge of involving in the fight. When my mother would sense that he wanted her to stop, she would shut her loud mouth. Almost instantly. Although he was a new person in my mother’s life, it didn’t take him long to take the responsibility of a real man, a man who made the rules. Yet, the conflict between my mother and me couldn’t be easily solved with a simple ‘rule’.

  “Girl’s fighting again? Aren’t you?” he said. He shook his head in disappointment. Then he made a few steps towards me and stood right behind me, his hand tapped my shoulder with a gentle touch and his finger brushed the back of my neck. I felt protected, I felt secure, I felt my ground.

  “Jane,” he said, “Jane, you’re not doing a favor to your daughter.” His voice was very self-assured, it seemed as if a God himself couldn’t disprove or argue with him.

  “If your goal is to help your daughter to achieve better grades, why are you doing everything to prevent her to do so?”

  I tried to hide the smile on my face, but it seemed as a mission impossible. He spoke the righteous words.

  “Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter! It’s not the time to discuss that now!”

  “Why? Because she can her that you’re wrong with the way you treat her?”

  “No, but because she needs discipline, and if you’re telling me that I’m wrong, she’ll never learn, never!” she shouted, waving her hands around.

  “You’re missing the point, Jane,” he raised his voice too, “Why don’t you leave me to discipline her. I might know a way that will not hurt her,” he said, and looked at me smiling.

  “She needs a
strong mother too, not just…” then she looked at me, “Charlotte, go to your room, go now!” she ordered. No matter how much I wanted to stay there to see my mother’s face when he was confronting her, I listened to her and went to my room, simply to let the situation flowing, to let him tell her all that I ever wanted to say, but never got the chance.

  Ever since he came in our lives things have changed. For good, at least from my perspective. My mother finally stop treated me as if I was her pet or something, she stopped yelled for everything I did and she wasn’t controlling me that much anymore. Marcus was good looking, mid forties, rich and powerful man. He had a well built body of an athlete. He was everything a woman could wish for and I wondered why my mother was the lucky one to hit that kind of a lottery. Probably it was nothing more but her astonishing body. People on the street and friends would think that we were sisters and she also had countless invitations to become a model, but she chose to work as a business woman. Marcus was one of the directors in the company where she worked. From the day one I felt connection with him, as if he was ‘on my side’.

  I hit the doors of my room and sat down and leaned my ear against them. They continued to argue and shout, but it was the first time in my life that I was actually exited that my parents were fighting.

  “You have to give her a break! She’ll never learn anything if you keep forcing her to do so,” he said, calm, but sharp.

  “Look, it’s always easier when you’re not a parent. It’s too easy to walk in the house and make whatever out of it. If it was your kid, you wouldn’t be so tolerable, I’m quite sure of that!” she said back, with the same sharp edge.

  “You don’t know what I’d do if I had a kid of my own, but I’m sure I wouldn’t stuff him with my own problems and yell at him all the time, I know that much!” he raised his voice too.

  A split second later I heard torrent of incoherent quarrel followed by the doors banging. My mom locked herself in her room because there was nothing to be said anymore. Marcus decisive way of dealing with her irrational behavior left her no space to proof that she was right in her deviant parenting method.

  I quickly jumped up and sat behind my desk and opened a textbook, pretending that I have continued to study. I felt that Marcus was going to pay me a visit and I wanted to make sure that his words weren’t lost in vain. That was at least I could do to show him appreciation for standing up for me. Or I should do something more?

  Unfortunately, as it was in real life, he didn’t come to my room, instead he rushed after my mom, I guess in an attempt to make peace. I closed the math book and walked to the window to smoke a cigarette. They didn’t know that I was smoking what so ever, but I never had trouble hiding my habit. I actually enjoyed every second of smoking at home because my mom never checked on me in my room.

  What I missed to predict was the fact that Marcus rushed out of the sleeping room as fast as he got in. Then he knocked on my doors, but before I could put out a cigarette and let him in, he entered the room. I didn’t bother to hide the cigarette. Actually, the next drag of smoke took a whole second. I felt mature, grown up, somehow sexy.

  “Do you have one for me?” he said, walking up to me. Dressed only in undershirt and short pants, with all of his muscles outlined under his skin, I would have invented the cigarette out of thin air if I didn’t have one ready. He was a head of a S.W.A.T team and there was no place to wonder where he did build that kind of a body.

  “Sure,” I said, passing him the box of red Marlboro. He sat on the window right next to me, and in his swing he accidently caught my black dress, pulling me closer to him. Swiftly, he stretched his arm and welcomed me on his shoulder, making sure that I don’t hurt myself.

  I found myself on his chest. He had a cigarette in his mouth and I had a lighter in my hand. Instinctively I lit up his cigarette and our eyes were matched while the fire between us kindled. Tension resurrected in my body, but this time it wasn’t unpleasant kind, actually it made my body warm. He left me wanting for more by wrapping his hand around me, I wanted him to make a next step and kiss my lips. Yet again, awareness that he was a man of my mother rushed through my mind when he put his hand down. In a second I moved back to my side of the window. Of course, things never go as they were portrayed in the movies, at least in my life. Why he didn’t proceed? I was an easy target. I was like a younger, hotter version of my mother. Big boobs, long legs, blue innocent eyes. Or maybe he was just a good guy - the man that didn’t want to take an advantage of the situation. Still, I could feel strong connection and tension between us.

  “You good?” he said, blowing the smoke out.

  “Yeah,” I said, looking away towards the street, “she just can’t understand. Why bother making her to do so?”

  “I know, but now I’m here to help you. No one should be tortured like that. And anybody can pass math if you give them a chance.”

  “Why are you so kind to me?” I asked.

  “Because I know exactly how you feel. I know what is like to be treated like a stupid shit. I had the same in my family. And now I don’t want someone else to suffer the same fate,” he said, casting a very serious look.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. As I thanked him, hope that was layered deep me, hope to get something more died right that moment. He wasn’t defending me only because he liked me or because he found me attractive, but because he experienced the same. Naturally, that didn’t devaluate the worth of his efforts, but that also meant that he wasn’t about to touch me in a way that only a man could.

  “I’d actually need some help with math. Now when there’s somebody that can help me. I’m sure I can grasp it, but I need someone to check if I’m doing anything wrong step by step,” I said.

  “Sure, we can do it now or tomorrow, however you wish.”

  “Well, I thought tomorrow, just to calm down first, but actually we could do it now too.”

  I walked to my desk and opened up the work book with exercises. I transcribed it in my notebook and started to calculate to show him the place where I’d usually get stuck and give up the whole assignment. He stood right behind me and observed the way I was solving a problem. However, when I looked back at him, I caught him peeking on my cleavage that was showing a bit too much because I was inclined forwards. He moved his sight away almost instantly, but little sight with the corner of his eye was enough for me to understand that he was attracted by me. That he wanted me. That he wanted to see more. I continued with the exercise and eventually he was showing me how to solve the problem, but instead of paying attention to that, I pulled my skirt up revealing my long legs. Almost all the way to my panties. I also pulled down my shirt to show more of my big tits, all done in a natural manner. I could notice that he was becoming uneasy as his voice was slowing down as if he was dropping his eyes on my boobs again from the angle that I couldn’t track, but my intuition knew what he was up to. He wanted a piece of me. Slowly I leaned a little bit back, touching torso with my shoulders and then he moved forwards all over me. Wrapping his arm again around my shoulder. My right arm touched his legs and I softly scratched him with my long nails. That was a point of no return. A clear sign that I wanted contact.

  We continued to solve the math problems and our eyes were focused on calculating numbers, but his hand was softly caressing my back. It was very intimate moment, filled with tension of knowing that something was going on, and that the best was yet to come. My nails were carefully provoking him, travelling up his inner thigh until the moment when I opened my palm and grabbed his strong leg from the inner side. At the moment, I thought how close to his cock I actually was. All I had to do was to stretch my hand and I would probably grab his manhood.

  Since we distracted ourselves by pretending that the numbers were our priority, we put away the direct responsibility for our naughty hands. It was funny and paradoxical, as if we were doing something else it would be fine to touch each other. His hand slipped a shirt and bra straps down, my shoulder was bare and half of my
boob was out on open. I felt my pussy getting wet and my whole body was tingling with unusual sensation. Something I haven’t felt before in the same manner. Maybe it was only because he was actually the man of my mother. For a single second, knowing that I was about to be intimate with him made me also nervous because mom would kill me if she’d find out about us. Yet, it was my revenge for all this years of harassment. The best kind of revenge – fucking her boyfriend.

  With that thought, self-confidence appeared in me unlike any time before. Right then, I strongly wished to seduce him and sleep with him. I wanted his cock. Not only to revenge my mother, but also because he was very handsome and sophisticated man. And as an expression of gratitude of standing up for me. His left hand moving closer to my uncovered boob gave me enough encouragement to take action, but before I did another attractive thought had crossed my mind – what if I’d let him to cum in me - to make me a baby by so called – accident? It felt so dangerous, but in the same time it also felt like the most desirable thing in the world.

  Without thinking twice, my hand found its way underneath his pants and softy bushed his balls and my hand moved up to find his rock hard, erected cock. I could barely wrap my hand around it because it was the thickest cock I’ve touched in my life. He stopped looking at the book and he gave me a look as if he was asking if I was serious about my act. I went too far already and wavering about it was not an option. I smiled and winked at him as I proceeded with jerking his big cock, simply to let him know that I was not joking at all.

  He moved closer to me and kissed my lips, so tenderly that my pussy melted. I was ready to give every cell of my body to him. Everything. Without thinking twice. His lips were so soft and full of emotion and caring. He was amazing and I was ready to do whatever he wanted with me.

  “I stayed with your mother only because I cared for you,” he whispered, and my heart skipped the beat. His words filled my eyes with tears. Tears of happiness that finally someone deeply cared for me.