Passion joined with love equals perfection.

This is a love story between a white man and a black woman. If you are looking for a "Fuck your nigger whore's black ass white boy" story you will not find it here. Save yourself -- don't read this.

And remember it is fiction. It is the world I create not the world that is.

It is a love story -- with some sex because that is what this is, a sex site. Ignore the sex and it is still a love story.

Oh and there is lots of Catholic stuff here -- so get over it or don't read it!

Honey I'm Pregnant My wife and I have been married three years. She was a bit older than me when we met and now I am only twenty six and she is forty two. Now I do not mind the age difference but what I do mind is her being a bitch.

I had been more than a bit of a geek in college and getting some action was new to me. After college I went to work and found that some women liked geeks. I dated more than a few but I was never a player. I finally got some action after college when I graduated at twenty. I dated some older ladies, I really liked them, they were better than the self serving greedy bitches my own age. I decided I would get married but to an older lady if I could find one I loved.

I met Faith at a conference. She was French and a bit skinny but she seemed to really like me. We began dating and sex was a regular part of it. It was the first time in my life that I had constant sex. By this time my start up business was more than a startup but I was not in the huge bucks by any means, but I was worth ten million.

I don't know that it was real love, the marrying kind of love, but I sure enjoyed her company. She was adventurous in sex and kept me good and happy until that one day she uttered those three words, "Honey, I'm pregnant."

I was not sure how it happened; ok I am sure how it happened I am not that big a geek.

Despite this we made sure to get a pre-nuptial agreement. She had some money from wherever and I had my business. She had her own lawyer, this tall black guy who was about forty-five, and I guess you would say he was good looking.

It was the standard agreement. No money if adultery and if both did it then the first one got nothing the other got a pass. We would do everything possible to keep the baby healthy in mind and body. The baby was the first concern. There was even a clause that no records could be kept confidential, even medical records, if an action was brought to enforce this agreement.

"Faith and her lawyer insisted on this being added because she had read an article where a husband gave his wife an STD and she was stopped from getting the husband's records to prove he had the STD before she was found with it, thereby showing he gave it to her and not the other way around. It was a complete waiver of confidentiality and an admission of the records into evidence with the other spouse being able to refute their accuracy if they so wished. Her attorney wrote the language and inserted it into the agreement and my attorney went along with it. Faith did not have to work pursuant to the agreement; she was going to be a mother.

"What we brought into the marriage was separate property, unless there was adultery and then the non offending party got one half of all assets, even separate property. Then it had the standard schedule of payments and terms.

Divorce for the sake of divorce without cause will give the divorced spouse one million dollars for each year of marriage, the divorcing spouse would get nothing.

Cause was defined as a violation of this agreement. Her lawyer looked at it and signed off and my lawyer did the same. I had just signed myself into hell and nothing could save me.

Within one month of our marriage my new bride had a miscarriage and became the wife from hell, or is that in hell, because that is where we now permanently resided. I resided there as an inmate, she resided there as the jailor, or was it the devil's concubine?

Yes I knew she was actually pregnant, I made her take three separate tests while I stood there and watched. Blue, blue and blue -- that is all kinds of pregnant. I am even the person who bought the test kits. I even had a doctor verify it too.

Nothing pleased her. She wanted new cars and she made my life miserable until she got them. She wanted a new home and she got it. She wanted designer clothes and she got them. She demanded custom furniture and she got it. She did not kill the goose that laid the golden egg, but she took every egg she could find. And I was not getting any pussy at all. At first I thought my time in hell would end but I was wrong. Hell is for eternity, unless there is a miracle.

She even made us have separate bedrooms.

And she needed a maid to help her do nothing with even less energy and she got one. Actually it was more than one, it was them. Ultimately she fired them, or they quit because she was a shrew. She was still a beauty but I found out it was only skin deep, if that deep.

We tried girls and old women. We could not find American's that would work for such a shrew so we looked elsewhere. They came from countries in Africa, or the Orient, or South America, and no matter where they were from, or what their ages, and what ever hell hole they came here to hide from, this hell house was worse than what they left behind and they all eventually quit. One even called Homeland Security and claimed she was in the country illegally so that they would send her home.

I had an office in the house and I could hide from the shrew in there. I had cork boards and white boards all over the room and on one cork board I had a map of the world, with pins in every country we had a servant from. The shrew now demanded that she had to be a French speaking servant.

I brought the shrew into my office and she did not like it there. I showed her the map of the world and handed her a dart. She threw it at the map and she hit my fucking cherry wood wall. She smiled at me when she did it. I gave her another and she hit the wall on the other side, putting another hole in some very nice cherry wood panel. She did both of those on purpose. I handed her a third and she did not even look at the map, she just looked at me with a smug nasty look on her face and tossed the dart over her shoulder without looking at the target. I know the bitch wanted to fuck up another panel. I smiled and she turned and frowned. She really wanted to hit the panel but by accident she hit the map. It landed on Haiti.

"I will find a Haitian" I told her.

"No, she must be from Haiti, not an American-Haitian, but a Haitian-Haitian." The shrew demanded.

How could this woman who was so good to me become like this? Why has the last almost three years become sexless? Why did she cut me off? Then it dawned on me. Now everything made sense; the information, everything made perfect sense. She wanted me to divorce her and/or she wanted me to commit adultery so she could take all the money and property. I was in hell and now I knew it.

Even though I was in hell I did not intend to give the bitch one penny.

It took a while but I finally got the shrew's demands satisfied. I had to contact a convent on Haiti to get someone. Haiti was a French colony and their national language was French. They are on the same island as the Dominican Republic, so if they want to leave Haiti all they have to do is go over to the other side of the island, but instead of doing that they get in boats and come to America. It was originally called Hispaniola, or so Columbus called it. It was also a slave colony from the time of the French slave trade. So when Bernadette showed up at the door I did not know what to expect.

To get to this state I first contacted the Mother Superior from where I grew up. I walked in and asked for Mother and I was told it was "Mother Superior" and I just said, "Yea right."

I was finally shown into her inner sanctum and I greeted her with "Hello Mother." Needless to say I got a scowl in return.

"How many times do I have to tell you it is Mother Superior?" she warned.

I just smiled and ignored her complaint and dropped down in the chair in front of her desk. I even put my feet up on it." I have another problem, the shrew wants someone else and now she has to be from Haiti. And she has to speak French." I told her.

I told her everything about my life and even though she was not a priest she was a psychiatrist, a real M.D. and her help was always part of my making life decisions. I told her about my problems with the shrew and I even told her about my newest client and she did not like that client at all. I told her what I had found and she was sad for me. She asked me why I even married that old woman and I told her I was probably looking to marry my mother.

"You know the saying, a boy marries his mother and a girl marries her father." I told her.

"That is a horrible thing to say! Now you take that back and go to the priest and confess or I will never speak to you again. That is a terrible thing to say!" she responded.

"No mother, I don't mean sex wise. I just mean that if a boy or a girl come from a good loving family and the parents are good role models for the family then they will look for a mate that has those qualities. A woman will look for a mate that has the fine qualities she saw in her good father, qualities that will make him a good husband and father for her children. The same is true for a son. He will seek out those qualities he found in a good and loving mother for his mate."

"But" I continued, "I should go see the priest. I have missed Mass so much. I thought the shrew was a good Catholic and a God fearing woman and I was wrong. There are so many things I have been wrong about Mother." Finally he admitted the truth, "If she had not been pregnant I never would have married her." He finally said with some despair.

First she took a moment to remind me it was "Mother Superior" and then she told me not to worry about the girl from Haiti and that she would make all the contacts for me and the girl would be perfect for my needs. I was to leave it to her; she knew exactly what I needed. She would make sure that the girl understood exactly what the home was like and what my needs were. She would be as perfect for me as a human could be.

I thanked her and kissed her on the cheek, and said "Thank you mother."

That is when she smiled, just a little, and said "It is Mother SUPERIOR! You have no respect you little brat."

But I knew she was kidding, or I hoped she was.

What I got was a twenty two year old black girl. I know she was not a girl but a woman but she was so small looking that I could not help but think of her as a girl. And her name, I always thought of that name as belonging to a girl a very special girl; like a Saint, Saint Bernadette Soubirous, of Lourdes. She had black kinky hair that was very short like Sophia Clerius short but not straight, but with multi colored glass beads woven into her hair. Actually it looked nice. She had a bright smile that drew you in. Infectious is a good word for it. Her eyes were black but a deep glossy black that sparkled when she was happy and she was happy to be away from Haiti and working and living in a big fine house with a Catholic family. I did not disabuse her of the fact that the front doors were the gates of hell and if I had written "Work Will Set You Free" over the doors it would have been fitting. For those of you not into the history of world war two, those words were placed by the Nazi's over the gate of a place called Auschwitz.

She was about five foot one and maybe one hundred pounds dripping wet, and she definitely needed some twenty pounds to flesh her out. She had no breasts to speak of but would when she gained some weight and you could tell that even under her worn and shabby clothes that she would be a nice smaller B cup girl with hard eraser nipples. A man can see those things easily. We are programmed to notice those things.

I invited her in, and spoke to her in French, not my native language. I told her about Madam, which the shrew demanded to be called and I was to be Monsieur; again a demand of the shrew.

The shrew was not in, so I showed Bernadette to her rooms. She was amazed and asked how many shared them with her and I smiled and told her she to live there alone and no one lived with her. She hugged me and almost cried. She had been living in the convent for more than ten years when her parents died. She was not actually a cradle orphan but she was one of the many homeless who were given a place to stay by the order of nuns there. I look at her meager belongings and decided she needed clothes and other products. When I told her that I was going take her shopping and I saw that beautiful round black face light up. It made me happy to see that.

I had filled out a lot of immigration papers and was financially responsible for her as a condition of her entry into America under her work visa. As part of that I felt it was my duty to get her clothes. I knew what the shrew wanted her to wear and I needed to get that too. She was surprised as we went to what I thought was an inexpensive store, Wal-Mart, but it was good for underwear and feminine hygiene products and some clothes for hanging around.

The way she acted you would have thought I brought her to Prada. She was embarrassed about some of the ladies products but I got a woman to help her as I translated from French to English and left them to their own devices. In the end she got a lot of nice clothes to wear and I had her put a casual outfit on for the rest of our day; which was going to be busy. She could not quit smiling at me and thanking me. There was just something about that smile and that beautiful black round face.

[Bernadette: "It has been a very strange day. This is a strange way to enter America; on a plane. No one I know has ever flown into America on a plane, in a real seat too. I was afraid of customs but I was allowed to pass right through and there was a car to pick me up and take me to my sponsor. His wife was not in but he was and he was a nice looking man. He showed me my rooms; it was a bedroom with its own bathroom. He and said it was all mine. It is like I am rich!

Then he took me to buy clothes, even some things that a man should not see on anyone but his wife, but he was kind. He had a woman help me and I even got to wear some of my new clothes out of the store. I wore a nice skirt and blouse and I noticed he looked at my legs, so I was naughty and I let him see more of them. I know it was wrong but I just could not help myself."] Next I took her to the bank so we could get her an account. Since she was wearing a skirt and blouse I have to admit that I saw a lot more leg than I should have. As she moved in the car more and more of her leg became visible and soon I realized that for some reason I was attracted to this beautiful black girl with the perfect skin and great legs.

In the future when I took her anyplace I made sure to open the door for her to get in and get out and I got some nice leg viewing and a bit of a chubby each time I played gentleman. I always bought her dresses and skirts too; no pants unless she specifically asked for them. She did a few times and she got them, but hardly wore them.

So into the bank and she gets a checking account and a debit card. I have her give me her password, I know I am not supposed to have it, but I need to be able to monitor the account and I can deposit her checks directly into that account. On the way home I explained all of this too her and of course she had to turn toward me to listen, such a sweet girl; and putting her leg up so innocently showed those beautiful black legs, that nice short skirt and just a hint of white cotton panty. Chubby does not describe how hard I was.

[Bernadette: "He actually took me to a bank to get an account and when he talked to me I turned in my seat and pretended I did not notice he was looking at my legs. What I did not notice was my skirt had moved up higher than I intended and he could see my panties. I should be ashamed but I am not; for some reason I liked him looking at me."] We made another stop and I bought Bernadette a nice dress and a skirt and blouse, very modest, for Mass on Sunday. I had to promise the nuns she would get to go to Mass. They had come out and interviewed the shrew and I and that was one of the promises I had to make. I had to show them where she would stay and the shrew told them what her duties would be and how much, or how little, she would make. I saw the nuns out to their car and told them my wife was full of shit and that she would not have to be a slave but I would treat her with dignity and she would make at least twice the amount my wife said. They smiled at me and said they knew me well and that I was perfect for Bernadette and that she was perfect for me. These were the same order of nuns that had raised me after my parents died in the fire. We were friends.

Our last stop was to get her uniforms fitted. Yes a maid's uniform; not a French style fuck me maid's uniform, but a uniform just the same. It had a full skirt, knee length, white shirt top with suspenders, all in black except for the white shirt. It would take a week to have it fitted.

When we got home I helped Bernadette take everything into her rooms. I asked her to make a list of anything she might need and we would buy them after Mass tomorrow. This was a Saturday and the shrew was out with her girlfriends.

[Bernadette: "He bought me more clothes for Mass, as well as my uniforms, and he always opened the door for me. When I got out this time I took my time. I should be ashamed but I am not. My skirt rose up higher than is proper and I spread my legs wider than I should and I held them open longer than was necessary. He looked admiringly at me. He was polite and helped me out but he took a very long time moving his hand for me to take. It was in slow motion. During that time I twisted in my seat and my skirt went even higher. I was wet between my legs, it was the first time this had ever happened without me touching myself. I wonder if there was a wet spot between my legs that he could see. When he put out his hand, his soft warm but strong white hand, and as I put my smaller black hand into it I think my body shook, just a little. This is not right and I know it is not right. I want it to be right, but he is a married white man and I am not for him. But maybe she is not for him and I am. What would our babies look like? When we were done shopping, and I managed to bump into him a few times, I got into the car the same way but now I knew what to do to make my skirt go even higher. I know I am really wet. He could see the entire front of my white panties. When I tried on the church clothes in the changing room in the store I saw how wet I was. It is not right but I want him. I don't care about his white wife even thought I have not met her. I know it is wrong but I feel he is for me. I can't quit smiling I am so happy."] The shrew was finally home and I introduced Bernadette to her; she was nonplused. The girl was black, young and very pretty, in a black sort of way. What the hell did she expect I thought to myself? Did she think we were going to get a retired nun?

That was the real start of the downfall of the shrew. She could be replaced and Bernadette was perfect in the house. She cleaned without complaint, although we were not very untidy people. She did the wash and even did some cooking but that was usually something I did myself. I liked to cook and I made breakfast and lunch and dinner. I walked to work and walked home. At least once a day I ran a minimum of five miles; most days it was ten miles. I liked to run. It kept me away from the shrew.

In the morning I made breakfast for three and Bernadette would take breakfast in on a tray for Madam. I made the shrew breakfast after Bernadette and I took breakfast together on the back porch if it was a nice day. Then I would prepare the breakfast for the shrew and go off to work as Bernadette took it into her. A certain amount of informality was allowed for breakfast between Bernadette and I.

Actually Bernadette should not have had to serve Madam her breakfast as it was too early for her to start working but Madam insisted; so we reached an accommodation. Bernadette would serve breakfast but would not have to be in a uniform at that hour. Bernadette would then clean the dishes, and after that would attend to her own ablutions and work the rest of the day in livery. Ok it is not livery but you get the idea; in uniform.

As time went on Bernadette was not always up soon enough for breakfast and I found that there were times she did not appear to be ready for her day, as she was not really completely dressed and at times wore her bedclothes. But I loved the way she looked. Of course madam complained that she was not properly dressed to serve her breakfast in bed, but I deflected most of the complaints with a reminder about our agreement.

She had that beautiful round face with a smile of bright white teeth and lit up the life of all around when she smiled. But there were some problems, she was just too pretty. Sometimes she wore those beautiful colored beads intertwined in her hair and at other times it was short but long enough to perfectly frame her face.

I knew that at lunch she would be perfect again and the shrew might be there for lunch with me and if not then it would be Bernadette and I alone. As the months passed I looked forward to the shrew being gone and it just being Bernadette and I.

[Bernadette: "How did it actually start? I knew about sex and such things and in the convent I talked with the other girls; girls who had lived on the streets. I knew about my body and how a man could make it react just by itself, without touching anything. The joke was about knowing if you had a good time on a date would be if your panties would stick to the wall if you tossed them at it. I did not understand completely back them, but now I do. Every time I saw him, and I saw him every day, I knew my panties would stick to that wall. At first I thought it was just the body, I learned that the body would do things just because that is what a body is supposed to do. With the right signals it turns into a little breeding machine and makes babies with the man who gets the signals started.

["And I had sex before, and I can't say it was all that great. I did not even have mild enjoyment those few times and I knew that there was something missing from it because most people kept doing it over and over. Then I remembered it was the other side, the love side that had been missing. I took this position to get out of Haiti and to find the other side, the love side. I had found it with this white man who was my employer, this married white man. For him I put up with the shrew, for him I cleaned and let her yell at me. For him I would break the commandments, I would become a sinner, for him I would become his lover. Now I needed to get him to know it.

["I began in little ways. We always had breakfast together as madam never woke early. He would make breakfast as if it were he and I that were master and mistress of the house. Then he and I would sit and eat and talk a little longer. He was a nice man and that was important. It took a while to learn about him and for him to learn about me. I would come out of my revelry long enough to take madam her breakfast and kiss her ass for her and leave.

["He cared for me and allowed me go to school, a local junior college which had some classes in French and also taught English as a second language. I told him I wanted to be a nurse. When he heard that he helped me get into the nursing program too. It was difficult because my main language was French but I worked hard and he helped. He asked me why I did not want to be a doctor but I told him a nurse was what I wanted to be. I wanted to be closer to the people than a doctor could be. Then I lied to him and told him I was afraid to go alone. He went with me and sat in on my classes and then helped me with my homework. I know I should not have lied but I knew he would not be mad if he knew. Madam did not seem to care one way or there other, as long as I kissed her ass the other times. When we did homework he would sit beside me and I would always find a way to touch him. It was electric. When his arm touched mine on the table top I would shake with small rolling orgasms. When we got in and out of the car I would always move to show him my legs and he seemed to like that. Why did he like that? Did he like that I was black, very black; or did he just put up with my being black? Did he like that I had big lips and kinky hair, or just put up with them? Did he like my nose or my ears? What was it he liked about me?"] The first time I saw her I was in lust. She affected me with such passion but I stayed away, knowing what was planned for me if I strayed without a proper plan. But still, I wanted her and took every opportunity to let her know. You cannot help who you fall in love with, or even when you fall in love. First it was lust, then it was love, then it was both.

The first time was staring at her legs, those wonderful long black legs encased in perfect skin that can only come from youth. But it was that smile, her round black face just lit the world up when she smiled, and I was lost, I admit it. It was like I had no control from that time forward. And it was the way she moved. The way her body moved under her clothes.

I introduced her to the shrew and let it go at that. The next morning I was making breakfast and Bernadette came out of her rooms and looked and me and smiled and my world lit up. That round smiling black face; I lived for that smile every day. I told her my schedule and I made breakfast and Bernadette and I had breakfast together; when we finished she would wake and serve the shrew. That was how it started.

Now months after our first breakfast she would come to the table still dressed in her night clothes, with only a robe on. The robe would frequently hang open. Then she would bend over and I would see that dark black nipple, fat and juicy, begging to be sucked by some hungry baby, or maybe a baby daddy. Those perfect small B cups had filled out with her healthy weight but were too much for me not to be excited over. I wanted to touch them, to suckle on them. Then there was her bending over and looking at her white panty covered butt.

I always thought that madam did not complain enough about her clothes when she was served in the morning and then I found out that Bernadette would use a long formal looking robe to serve the shrew so she never knew about her state of undress in front of me.

What started as a mistake soon became a regular part of our lives. I was leaving to walk to work and Bernadette stopped me to give me a paper I left on the table. I thanked her and put it into my briefcase and kissed her on the cheek and walked out, saying good-bye. I should just have gone ahead and fucked her right then and there and let the shrew find us at it, because it was that inevitable. When I came home for lunch I kissed her good-bye when I left. This went on for weeks and then I kissed her hello but only when the shrew was not around.

So now I was kissing her hello in the morning, in the afternoon when I came home for lunch, and when I came home in the evening. I was also kissing her good-bye in the morning, and in the afternoon and soon it developed that if the shrew was not around I would kiss her good night in the evening. These were still cheek kissing.

[Bernadette: "I remember the lessons well; passion joined with love equals perfection. What I was looking for was perfection but with a white man? He was kind and sweet and spoke the worst French I have ever heard. He wanted a bottle of wine, [bouteille] and instead asked for a boite [box] of wine. We both laughed. His accent was horrible and it made me laugh just to hear it. There were times I thought he made his accent as bad as possible just to make me laugh; and at other times I knew his French was the worst I had ever heard. He tried to translate things for me and I frequently had to have him write it down so I could use the computer to understand the translations. But he was kind and he made me breakfast every morning and I made him lunch every afternoon. And we made dinner together every evening. It was like we were actually married. He fought with madam so that I could eat dinner with them. He said that way madam could have me wait on her during dinner but soon I realized it was so he could wait on me and have me with him. Once I realized that I knew he would be mine."] Then there was the time I kissed her lips. I was going to work after lunch and she turned just as I went to kiss her cheek and my lips brushed hers. We stopped and looked at each other. I moved in close and made it a proper kiss as I held and then folded my arms around her. We were both panting a little. As I pulled away I gave her a little lip nibble and she returned in kind. Oh God that was wonderful. A step had been taken and we just kept moving forward. We smiled at each other. Her smile affected me on such a level that it is impossible even for me to explain. It burned into my soul and at the same time made it soar.

From that day on there were nothing but kisses between us when we were alone. Taking her in my arms, feeling her moist lips against mine, her body pressed against my body, my passion evident to her. As I said originally, after that first kiss on the cheek I should have just tossed her down and make love to her, it was that inevitable.