I met a black man on line who liked married white men like myself. After some small talk, he invited me to his house for some afternoon fun. I arrived... and found a very handsome black man 6'1 210lbs who looked like a running back. We had some small talk upstairs in his kitchen and things seemed a bit chilly at first. Then he suggested we go downstairs to his living room to get more comfortable. I agreed with a smile. When he kissed me at the top of the stairs with a deep tongue, everything. ”I got on the elevator wondering about the look they gave me. I got off the elevator and after opening the door I walked into the smell of coffee.“Kendi, I’m home.”My wife came out of the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and panties.“Hi Mick. Where have you been?”“I went for a walk.”“Me too. I thought that you were going to call me if I wasn’t home.”“I had a lot of thinking to do.”“Me too.”“What did you have to think about? All you have to deal with is a wife that loves you and let her hate for. Would either of those times be convenient for you?" I had planned on taking my brother up to visit my alma mater on Wednesday, Miss Sheridan. For some reason he thinks he might prefer Yale to Brown. I was hoping to dissuade him from this error." I was just playing with her, but I didn't appreciate such an abrupt summons from on high either."Is there another day, this week, that would be more convenient for you?" Depending on social opportunities that might develop for over the weekend, Friday. Exciting! It meant, for one thing, that maybe my mom really wasn't quite as 'racist' as I'd grown up to see her as? Then there was the nagging thought that my step-dad might be in on this whole interracial sexual thing, as well. It made so much sense that he had been the one taking those photographs---but what about the very real possibility that my mom had fucked that black guy? If my step-dad had taken the photos of my mom snuggling and cuddling with that black guy, it seemed inescapable that.