In the 1970s I was a medical student at the University of Washington in Seattle, my hometown. Med school was a good time in my life. It was early in the woman's movement and there only were a few other female students in my classes. We were a bit exotic, at least I like to think so. I enjoyed learning. I looked forward to practicing medicine.

I associated with like-minded colleagues. None us had much money but we got by and frankly, had a good time. The only downer was the pace, pulling graveyard shifts, and being my best 24/7. The unyielding routine could grind you down; it was intended to. I welcomed breaks from it.

Often, we'd unwind at the hot springs on Mt Baker, an hour's drive north. The springs were on U.S. Forest Service land and cost nothing to use. This was back in the early days of the sexual revolution before Sexual Transmitted Diseases scared the pants onto everyone.

Interesting things happened at the springs. To see a couple making love was common enough. Interesting, but not worth much attention. Less frequently, a woman sat on the edge of a tub and had more than one man. I had done that as an undergrad, more than once. I had a reputation back in the doin' days. That I never got pregnant is a testament to God's fondness for fools.

One winter night under a full moon my boyfriend and I pulled into the Forest Service parking lot. The night was bright as day and we had driven up the mountain with our headlights off, just for the lark of it.

There were no other cars in the lot. This was a little surprising. We had thought the full moon would draw out the romantics. We figured others would show up later. My boyfriend and I were feeling kinky wanted to make love in public.

A car pulled up as we slipped into our winter coats and boots. Three black men got out and looked around disoriented. Obviously, they'd never been there before. They were dressed for an expedition to the North Pole, totally covered in heavy coats, thick wool pants, bulky boots, and heavy wool stocking caps under fur-fringed hoods. Their gloved hands were pulled up inside coat sleeves for extra warmth.

They looked like soft-shelled turtles standing erect on hind feet. Since they had jumped out of the car fully dressed for their Arctic adventure, they had probably driven up the mountain fully clothed, no doubt heater blasting hot air onto them.

One of the men walked over to us and asked politely in a clipped and formal British accent, "Where dee hot water?"

My boyfriend and I looked at each other and smiled. My boyfriend asked politely in return, "Oh, you mean the hot springs?"

"Yes, dee HOT springs," he responded through glistening white teeth.

We smiled at his accent and my boyfriend pointed out the trail up to the springs.

I joined in, "Follow us. " I added, "You'll want to bring towels."

My boyfriend and I headed up the short trail to the springs. The full moon and snow-covered mountains lit up the night in a soft, white glow. No flashlights required. We crunched through the one-inch new snow dusting the trail. The night felt fresh and primitive. It was special to share it with my boyfriend.

I heard the black men fast-stumbling up the trail after us, trying to catch up. There was absolutely no way for them to get lost on the well-marked trail. Though, the dark shadows under Douglas firs along the trailside could look dangerous to the uninitiated.

I suppose being foreign to the area they felt apprehensive about hungry wolves and grizzly bears dragging them into the woods for a late-night snack. Easy for me to make fun of them, being a native. They seemed like nice enough guys.

My boyfriend and I chose the most distant and private of the three tubs. We quickly shed our clothes, hung them on tree branches, and hurried on tippy-toes through the cold snow to the tub. The welcoming hot water instantly put us at ease, the moils of med school fell off like a bomb.

We soaked and watched the black men look around the clearing for instructions on hot tubbing. They inspected the other tubs. They looked at the dark perimeter of Douglas firs and huddled together. They looked up at the stars, orienting themselves, perhaps looking for astrological guidance. They looked at each other. In time they wandered over to our tub. My milky white breasts and blond pubic hairs bobbed through the surface.

I enjoyed showing my sex to them. They looked at me and took me in. The man who had spoken to us in the parking lot politely asked, "We join dee lady?"

My boyfriend and I wanted a little privacy for reasons that were obvious to us, but I guess not them. But the hot springs were about relaxed camaraderie and there was no need to offend strangers. I waved, "Sure. Climb on in."

We watched them peel off layers of clothes. Heavy jackets, thick wool sweaters, wool shirts, and insulated underwear. We smiled to each other, amused by their over preparedness. They stacked clothes on coats outspread on the snow. I wondered if they were going to wear bathing suits. They didn't.

I'd seen penises before. I was a med student, right? But their sexual organs surprised me. Their long shafts arched downward. I say "arched" because their shafts were thick near the top and tapered to half that girth. The thickness at the top bulged their penises outward and as the hefty shaft narrowed, its long weight arched their penises downward.

Foreskins covered their cockheads, at the tip a small round opening of turned-back skin. Under their shafts, the men carried handsome scrotal sacs, which their heavy, plum-sized testicles filled out beautifully.

As they walked to the tub their pendulous shafts swung heavily back and forth. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The potency of these black men's penises and testicles captivated me. These men were made for breeding women — and maybe even horses, they were that well endowed.

Out-of-the-blue I wanted to have a baby. It just suddenly came over me. For the first time in my life, I thought about having a child. I stepped through a gate. On the other side, a loving home behind a white picket fence, children's happy voices, and the aroma of homemade spaghetti sauce. This unanticipated thought of having a family didn't shock me. On the contrary, it felt timely, warm, and inviting — more so, deeply essential.

With a mixture of scientific and sexual curiosity, I couldn't keep my eyes off their organs. I hoped the cover of night hid my curiosity but in the bright moonlight, I knew it didn't. Being out in the forest with only my boyfriend to protect me from these powerful and potent black men felt dangerous and exciting. I tingled between my legs.

They sat down into the water and their penises disappeared. As they leaned back onto the sides of the tub their penises broke the surface and rested on the water like venomous snakes. The upturned tips of foreskin looked threatening and ready to bite. As the men shifted about getting comfortable the snakes slithered back and forth through the water.

The snakes turned me on and frightened me too. I wanted to run away; I wanted to charm the snakes — and I wanted them to charm me. I couldn't keep my eyes off their snakes. From the men's easy manner in showing them off, I figured they'd exposed their superior size to white girls before and were comfortable with my blatant curiosity.

We chatted. They were Jamaican exchange students at Seattle Community College. Their sing-song and easy way with words was as friendly and inviting as the warm Caribbean. Their voices mesmerized me. I fell into a trance of compliance, wanting these black men to charm me, to turn up prickly heat between my legs.

I stared at the snakes. I spoke. My mouth moved. I heard my own voice in conversationn. But my attention was on black snakes resting on the water's surface. I stared at the snakes. They stared back at me.

These snakes belonged to voodoo witchdoctors from Jamaica who wanted to put a spell on a white girl. I had a sense about these things — all women do. The thought of them wanting me sexually amped-up the tingling between my legs.

I stared at the snakes. They slithered back and forth on the water as the men shifted about. I stared at the snakes. I felt hypnotized in my inability to resist them. My legs involuntarily drifted apart for them. I showed these black men my pussy. I couldn't help myself.

The black men looked approvingly at my pussy and nodded smiles. The tingly feeling spread throughout my body. My desire for the snakes to strike and do their will overpowered me. Dizzy, hot, and defenseless, I fell deeper into the spell the black men had put on me.

I wanted to give all of me to the snakes. I wanted the snakes to attack and bite me, to fill me with their potent venom. I wanted the snakes to possess my soul. I was theirs. Helpless, I fell deeper and deeper under the black men's spell. I wanted to give everything to them.

But I was frightened too.

Using my last drop of willpower, I crawled out of the tub. The black men's eyes followed me. I rolled in the snow, hoping its sharp crystalline cold would extinguish the tingly heat burning inside. The black men's eyes followed me. Their white teeth glowed with friendly, beckoning smiles in the moonlight, 'Come to us.'

I lay on my back in the snow to avoid their eyes. I scooped snow onto my burning tummy and pussy. I sensed the black men watching me, knowing I would come to them. I felt their power over me: the more I resisted, the tighter their hold. I could feel myself being pulled to them. They could reel me in whenever they wanted.

Deep within my heart, the passion to be embraced by the black men intensified. I sat up in the snow and looked into their eyes. They smiled at the crazy white girl trying to escape, 'Come to us.' I looked at their snakes and trembled.

I closed my eyes, blindly crawled back through the snow, and climbed into the tub.

I snuggled up to my boyfriend's ear. I wanted to whisper, 'Help me. Protect me. Take me away from here.' But I couldn't get my mouth to move.

Frightened out of my wits and on fire between my legs, I lay on my back in the water, legs tight together and feet extended to keep the snakes at bay.

I took my boyfriend's hand and covered my pussy for protection.

But it wasn't protection I wanted. And he knew it. I wanted them to watch.

He gently stroked my pussy for the black men to see. Deep down, I had known he would. He worked magic. With thumb and forefinger, he gently squeezed my clitoris.

I loved his attention. I loved showing off to the black men and teasing them. My boyfriend scratched where I itched. My legs floated open to give him easy access. I showed my open cunt to the black men. 'See, my boyfriend is taking care of me, protecting me from your snakes and their potent juices.'

My boyfriend gently worked two fingers into my cunt. I raised my cunt above the water's surface to show the black men I didn't fear them and what they wanted me to do. I was in control.

My boyfriend knew I was teasing the black men on the far side of the tub. With index and middles fingers he spread my vulva to show off my cunt glistening in the moonlight.

In my masturbations I had fantasized about showing a black man my cunt, teasing him to erection, and testing his courage to take a white man's woman. Now I was actually showing my pink flesh and vaginal opening. My breathing quickened from the intensity of fulfilling my fantasy: black men watching and wanting, daring them to take a white man's woman.

My boyfriend's fingers moved back to my clitoris.

With index and middle fingers of each hand, I held my vulva open to show the black men all of my tender pink flesh.

My boyfriend knew I liked gentle. I could barely feel him stroking my clitoris. I pulled my knees back to spread my legs wide open for the black men to see. Invitingly, I worked a finger into my vagina and gently circled its opening.

I confidently lifted my head and looked across the waters that separated me from the snakes. Three hooded cobras stood erect out of the water. Behind the cobras, the black men smiled patiently waiting for their turn. I trembled.

Gasping for breath, I laid my head back on the rim.

The sight of the three erect cobras was too much. I exploded. I bucked in the water. As my boyfriend vigorously stroked my clitoris I cried out helplessly for all to hear, "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." My eyes rolled up into the top of my head. My brain split in two. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Fuck me."

As my bucking subsided my boyfriend lifted his hand from my cunt and waved to the black men to come over and join us. He had fully prepared me for them. He had properly teased the black men. He had deliberately inflamed their lust for me. He had invited them to have me. He had played his role.

He stood up in the water. Completely intimidated by the black man's superior size, his short and flaccid white impotence nestled limply into a nest of pubic hair. He got out of the tub and walked away through the snow towards voices in another tub. He abandoned me to them. I felt vulnerable, paralyzed.

I heard a black man slosh through the water towards me. My legs floated open. I couldn't help myself. The aching need for his attention between my legs was unbearable.

The black man stood between my legs, his black cobra erect, hard as steel, dominating me, overpowering me with its pure masculine strength. His heavy plums rounded out his sac. I had never been so close to anything more beautiful, enchanting, and aggressive.

I offered no resistance. I gave myself to him.

He lifted me in his strong arms and sat me on the rim of the tub. I wanted to speak but my mouth wouldn't move. But my mind thought what I couldn't say, a desire I had never had for any man before, a desire I couldn't deny, 'Impregnate me.'

I had lost control of my life. The black man's desire to fuck and impregnate a white man's woman had overpowered me. I gave myself completely to the black man's needs. These black studs had demonstrated their undeniable superior sexuality. That's all it took. Just seeing those swinging cocks and plum-sized balls had drawn me to them and enslaved me to their needs.

I could run but I couldn't hide from the desire they kindled in me. Their needs overpowered me. I wanted a black man to impregnate me. I wanted to give myself completely to him and nurture the seeds of his African race.

Finally able to speak, I looked the black man in the eye and pleaded up to him, "Impregnate me." I'd never been more truthful. His cold brown eyes hard-stared down into me.

I completed my submission: I lowered my eyes in deference to the black man's breeding supremacy, "Please." I slipped my arms around him and drew us closer together.

At that moment, I knew my entire life had brought me to this point. Med school and all the rest of it had been a path to here. I wanted to carry a black man's baby. I wanted his strength to round out my tummy. I wanted to walk with my swollen belly beside a black man in a shopping mall filled with Caucasian families and see his attitude and pride in having impregnated me.

Too, something in my unnourished dark side stirred. I felt Satan slip into my soul and take it. The juices flowed out my cunt at the thought of giving to the black man the white man's most prized and precious possession, his fertile white woman. I tasted the power of cuckoldry and wanted to be part of it.

This was the essential nature of a white woman under the hypnotic spell of a black man's stunning sexuality, to mate her Caucasian DNA with his African seed, to cuckold the white man in the most fundamental way, to openly deny the white man his breeding privileges and have a black buck breed his white woman like a mare.

And there was nothing the white man could do except wallow in the humiliation and shame of his white woman openly preferring — for the whole world to see — a black man's seeds.

Joining the black man in cuckolding the white man was new and intoxicating and excited me into a delusional trance of total submission. I reveled in my darkness and wanted more.

Confidently and tenderly the black man took what was his. He encircled my back with a strong arm to keep me from falling over backward.

I looked down at his snake. His fingers slid back the black foreskin. I gasped at the size of his flared nob. This snake meant business. This snake would show no mercy. This snake would change my life forever. I shivered.

I feared to see his snake enter me. I laid my head on his chest, closed my eyes, and pushed erect nipples into his jet-black skin. 'I will nurture your African race with my milk.' It was over: I submitted. I was his in every fiber of my being.

His hand guided the hot snake into my cunt. With both hands, I pulled back my knees and opened my legs and gave his tapered snake easy access. I felt a low animal grunt rumble in his chest as his snake slid into me.

He tenderly nuzzled the top of my head and held me tenderly. With gentle thrusts, he worked his snake into me.

He opened the door to every nerve, exposed it, teased it, and stroked it tenderly. I felt full. I felt one with him and whole. I felt protected in his muscular black arms.

He grunted and worked deeper into me. His foreskin massaged my clitoris in a way no white boy ever had. He worked deeper and deeper, in and out, in and out... His swinging testicles rhythmically bumped my ass cheeks.

My cunt hurt from the girth of his snake.

I felt his black cockhead bump my cervix, unmercifully pushing open the door to my fertility. Gaining access to all that was his to claim.

I pulled my head from his chest and looked down to where we joined. The contrast of my supple white body welcoming his hard, black snake was frightening, beautiful, and right. His entire snake pumped deep into me. There was no turning back.

I laid my head back on his chest. His muscles tensed and he crushed me into him. He openly grunted and grunted.

I freed a hand from an outspread knee, reached under his snake, and hefted his full plums in my outstretched palm. Instantly his plums harden and raised in his scrotum. I lifted my cradling palm to be with him, to share his strength.

He pulled out and then thrust his African seed deep inside me. He GRUNTED his jisum up into me again and again. I felt the hot essence of his African race flood into me. I welcomed with joy his overpowering need to fertilize a white man's woman.

I exploded. "Fuck me." I orgasmed around his snake. "Oh please please impregnate me." I wrapped my legs around him and rubbed my clitoris into his thick mat of pubic hair. I bucked and bucked and shouted for everyone to hear, "Oh my fucking God. Oh my fucking... Impregnate me. Impregnate me."

He pushed me off the mountain top into the land of clouds and rain, into pure ecstasy. I nearly blacked out.

He relaxed inside me, the deed done. Spent, his used plums fell into my cupped palm. They felt beautiful, tender, and plump.

This black man I hardly knew had completed my sentence. I felt fucked for the first time in my life. Nothing was left of the white girl. I was now a black man's woman.

I would whore for him. I would do anything to please him. I radiated pure and unquestioning love and joy. Out of the pure ecstasy in having found myself, I quietly wept.

We held each other tenderly, feeling the synchronous rhythm of our beating hearts. Wave after wave of my pure love flowed into him.

He gave me a final affectionate squeeze and slipped out of me. His snake splashed back into the water. He stepped out of the way.

Another black man moved up and took his place. He grabbed me by the waist, spun me around, and forced me to bend forward.

With my hands on the rim of the tub, his hard nob explored my exposed opening.
Confident in his sexual prowess, his strong hands grasped my hips and with a single thrust into his friend's slippery jisum, he buried his tapered snake to the hilt.

They took turns mounting me from behind.

I lost count.

After they finished with me — after they had cuckolded the white man and mated his woman with their African genes, forever — they withdrew to their side of the tub, dragging their flaccid penises and empty scrotal sacs through the water.

I slid down into the tub, thrilled and exhausted.

In front of me, the moonlight illuminated drifting jeweled strings of knotted jisum.

I heard voices from another tub and lazily thought my ex-boyfriend might be there.

I didn't care.

The black man's strength had become my strength. His superior manhood had claimed me and now I was part of something bigger: vengeance, cuckoldry, superiority, dominance, the future, womanhood, and purpose.

I laid my hand on my tummy. Inside, the black men's essences competed to fertilize my eggs. I smiled at the rivalry of their sperm swimming in my sticky fluids, up through welcoming fallopian tubes, and mating with my ripe eggs. Forever I would be mated to one of them. May the best man win.

I had read in the New England Journal of Medicine that a woman bore healthier babies when the father continued to ejaculate into her vagina throughout her pregnancy. I wanted my baby to be healthy. But I didn't know which of the three black men had fathered the baby growing inside me, soon swelling my tummy into obvious womanhood. I did what needed doing, I'm happy to say. I did the right thing.