Filth ain't filth if it's funny!
My family was upper middle class White and they warned me not to marry my extremely poor, lower class White boyfriend.
I rebelled. I regret it-regretted it three years after I promised forever.Children and stubborn pride wouldn’t allow me to admit it to my family. Nor fix it by getting a divorce. All I could do was just go about the business of living.
Our sex life dwindled in tandem with our mutual disinterest in each other. I knew he was masturbating quite often, but he was discreet about it.
He kept the bathroom door closed and the ceiling fan on to hide the grunts. I would hear him shower afterward but didn’t give it a second thought.
Years earlier I’d found his stash of Black porn magazines and movies, which I found hilarious because he was a dyed in the confederate flag bigot.
I thought him having fantasies, of fucking the same minorities he hated being forced to interact with, was as kinky as he would ever get. God knows he never was anything but boring in our sex life.
I didn’t suffer at all by only having sex with my husband once a month. If he didn’t insist on making love more often, I surely wasn’t going to.
For our 15th wedding anniversary my parents gave us a weekend getaway. We were both reluctant to go stay in the resort together but didn’t want to let my parents down. Nor pass up a free vacation.
I made sure I stayed busy sightseeing, something he has no interest in. I would come back to our suite at dusk to find the bed stripped bare, the dirty sheets piled by the door.
I remember thinking that he was having marathon masturbation sessions. The maids would come and remake the bed by the time I was ready to fall asleep so it wasn’t a big deal. Until we checked out.
The front desk handed me a bill for $300.00 stating that it was owed because of the ruined bedding. I was shocked. How could bedding be ruined from semen?
The hotel manager said that there were multiple black marks on every sheet that they were unable to launder out.
I continued to argue and demanded to see the damage. That’s when my husband stepped in and paid the bill in cash.
He hustled me out the door while I was still throwing a fit. I transferred my anger to him. We couldn’t afford to let some hotel steal what little spending money we had.
He refused to explain, angrily told me to ‘shut the fuck up about it’. We lived in cold silence for a week.
My husband wasn’t the most tolerant man, but he’d never spoken to me like that. He said vicious things about minorities and other women, but never included me in his disdain.
I don’t know how long the silent treatment would’ve lasted without him calling me from jail for help.
Shocked, I put my foot down and refused to bail him out until he told me what happened. He tried his best to bully me into blind obedience but I insisted. Every detail.
On his way to work he realized he had time to kill. He pulled the van to the side of the highway and started looking at one of his black porn magazines.
He didn’t want to go to work horny, he said. He started his normal jerk off ritual.
I learned that he’d been unable to orgasm unless he paints his dick black. He told me that he’d been using a black magic marker to color his dick for a few years now.
Hearing him shower after masturbating in the bathroom now made sense. The $300 hotel bill for damaged bed linen, and his insistence on paying it without arguing, made sense as well.
I was silent. Confused, disgusted, but also amused. Pretending to have a black cock got him off. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Until he told me that part of his jerk ritual, in addition to putting is dick in blackface, is to take a few hits of Meth.
My husband of 15 years-a bigot who secretly longed to have a black cock, who exclusively fantasized about fucking black women, was also a hardcore drug user.
So there he is-high on the side of the road, dick painted black, steadily jerking off to images of nude black women.
So into stroking his ‘black’ cock that he didn’t notice the police officer who pulled behind his car to see if he needed any assistance.
The officer saw him jerking off through the window. Noticed the black magic marker laying in the passenger seat next to his pipe and bag of dope. He was taken straight to the Santa Barbara county jail.
No ink was needed for him to be finger printed, his black cock left his hands covered in plenty of ink. Charged with drug possession, driving under the influence, and indecent exposure.
I hung up the phone without promising to help. Flashed back to that hotel bill and all of the post jerk off showers. Thought about what other sexual secrets he might have, the drug use.
I did call a lawyer. A divorce lawyer.