My Private Stalker

by Cantbuymy

Caution: This Interracial Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Pregnancy, Big Breasts, Slow, .

Desc: Interracial Romantic Sex Story: A man searches for love after the death of his wife and finds it in the arms of a beautiful black woman.

OK this is another one my love stories.

Keep up with the change of perspective. Unlike movies I can't show it all at one time so when two people are engaged at the same time I may write their thoughts and move from one to the other. That is how life works. You talk on the phone, think about what you will do later, monitor the kids or the cat, and do it all at one time. So keep up. The statements will always let you know who is talking by saying something that only one of the characters would say.

The first e-mail I got simply said "Listen white boy, you are a racist woman hating pig and I will make it my mission in life to own your ass!"

"Wow that was kind of harsh" I thought, "I will put that with my others." I get a lot of that shit.

A few days later there was another one.

"White boy I have been reading your stories and don't you know any black women who are true and faithful?"

Ok that was not too harsh, but how the hell do I answer a question without a return address? Ok, it is an e-mail but when it comes through an anonymous porn site, there is no return. I publish on a lot of sites and I was not sure where she was seeing them all.

Well here is another one from my private stalker,

"Are all the black women you know whores? I bet all the women you know are just that, whores. Stupid white boy."

Another question with no way to reply, this was nuts.

There were more and more then I got a really scary one. The next one really got to me because it was my social security number. No message, just the number.

Then I got one with my address and another with a picture of me at a concert with a date.

By now they were coming from a web site some place in Eastern Europe.

So now I could reply. I gave it considerable thought, I wanted all my education and writing skills to show, I wanted to crush her with words.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Ok it was the best I could come up with on short notice.

"Well, well, it looks like the white boy has quite a way with words. Why don't you cut that one out and give it to your mommy and she will tape it to the front door of the refrigerator and everyone can see why she is so proud of her racist woman hating son!"

Ok she is doing better than I am.

"Look lady and I will stretch the definition of the word to encompass whatever you are, why give me shit? Yes I use lots of races, and no one seems to bitch when it is a white woman that is the evil person. No one bitches when the title is "White wife fucked by five feet of black cock at one time while white husband loves it" and then you learn that she has a 12 inch black cock up her ass, pussy and down her throat as she jacks off two more 12 inch black cocks; making five feet of cock at one time; or some story equally full of shit. So just give me a break." Well at least I thought that one out a little.

Well it did not do anything to slow her down.

"What is the matter white boy some real man, a black man, take your white woman away from you? Maybe some sister told you she wanted a black man because she needed a real dick instead of a pinky size weenie that you think is a cock."

Damn this bitch wants to play the dozens, I hope she can cope. For those of you who don't know, the dozens was a slave game, where children were subjected to insults by other children and parents, to harden them to insults and to not show emotion. It was a way to shield them from punishment when the slave owner insulted them and if they showed emotion, especially anger, they would be punished. The dozens helped them not show emotion.

"Let me guess, old, black, at least 3 kids, and no fucking husband and all you have are saggy tits, stretch marks, fat belly, a big fat ass, and no man but a dildo and a year's supply of batteries. Why don't you pretend you are a woman in the local welfare office, or food stamp redemption point, aka, your local fucking crack house? Now leave me the fuck alone." I hope that would end it. Wrong.

So this is one I got back.

"Why are you being so mean to me? My husband is dead and I am all alone. I was just having some fun and you are being really mean. I think you are a very mean white boy."

Women! Now I am positive it is a woman, and is probably older rather than younger.

Now don't get the wrong idea, none of this happened quickly, it took a long time and there were hundreds of these flying back and forth. Then things started moving even quicker.

There were still insults but we started talking to each other, rather than at each other. I knew she was married at 15 to a man who was 40. That he died 5 years ago and she had been living with her daughters since then. She was now 40 and he died when he was 60 and she was only 35.

She knew that I wrote trash and that my wife died of cancer after we had been married 20 years and that we had one daughter and one son. We had been married since we were both 18 and now I was 40.

She still called me white boy and a racist and I still played the dozens with her, but I seemed to stay away from the more personal insults. Inside of the e-mails were even more personal and mundane things. With all that was going on she told me about her favorite china patterns, cookware, that wonderful bedroom set she would never have living with her daughter. This was really boring shit, but I had nothing else to do at times, so it passed for companionship. I know, I need a fucking life. Favorite songs, dances, all of those things people end up talking about when that is all they have to talk about.

There were a lot more e-mails and they were more banter than racist bluster; but you got the point of what was happening.

But there it was again, more emails and more of that white boy shit.

"What is it with you and this white boy shit? Damn woman, you are a woman aren't you, give me a fucking break and let's see if we can get this behind us, or at least on the other side of your big black fat ass."

Ok I could not just let it go, I had to show I had a set.

"My ass is not fat." Her next e-mail started.

I had to laugh at that one. You tell a woman she is a low class cheating slut, a lying cum drinking fat whore and the first thing she will deny is being fat.

We went on for over a year. Not everything was angry. I told her about my stories all being love stories, even if they were weird. I admitted I was not a good writer, I was barely a writer, but I enjoyed it. Not one of my stories ever left out love. "I kill monsters" was a love story about two people broken by hate after confronting evil, finally finding love with each other but still confronting evil in the world.

"Tell that lie to someone else white boy I don't need to hear it" she wrote back.

"Well in An Extended Caribbean Vacation the black women are ladies. An older black woman falls in love with a white man but soon learns she is dying of cancer so she devises a way to make him love her younger sister, who has issues and a fear of men. I use the line 'kiss Karen' as the vehicle for getting them together. I admit I am not a good writer but it was a love story and the black women are ladies, like you are."

"So you actually wrote something nice about a black woman but it does not make you anymore understanding than any other white racist. Listen white boy, we have been playing this for one year now, I know everything about you and you don't know anything about me. So here is how it is going to go down. I will tell you a place and a time and you will have your lily white boy butt there! No debate, no excuses. I have a lot more information about you than you think."

"Listen I have never dated a black woman so I don't think I am up for the rest of this game." I wrote her back.

"Up for it or not white boy you will be there and you are going to be there on time and if you don't, well I know a lot more about you than you may want people to know. So it's the Ruth's Chris Steak House on Roswell Road Northeast, in Atlanta. Be there at 7:00 pm and dress nice. You are going to be out with a lady not a black tramp or whore so dress appropriately."

"Now tell me again why you want to date me. I am a little confused about this. You call me boy, you have spent the last year playing the dozens with me and now you want a date. So what the hell is going on?"

"The answer is simple white boy, 'because I can'." The only thing she agreed to was our date being on a Wednesday night.

Even though I had seen pictures of him and knew what he looked like, and I had read his stories and understood his mind, I was not prepared for him. He was not very tall, maybe five foot nine or ten, but he was slender, probably from all that running and he had nice shoulders. He was wearing a midnight blue suit, a color that looks black in the night rather than dirty grey like a black suit looks at night. He was wearing a light grey shirt with a hand painted red silk tie, nothing ostentatious, but quality. He was also wearing black cowboy boots.

He looked right at me and walked over, something was in his hand but I could not make it out at first. He had an air about him that made my eyes follow him. He walked to me and set what he had on the table. It was a silver flower vase, with entwined vines, and a small side pocket. The main part of the vase had one white, pink, red, and Black rose. The black rose was in the center and slightly higher than the rest.

But the pocket was most intriguing. It had the same mix of miniature baby roses, almost the size of baby's breath, but it had three instead one black baby rose and three white ones too.

.... There is more of this story ...

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