Fateful Decision To Be A Single Mother

Nancy is a dear friend, but we never met. An online acquaintance who became a sister. She told me of the baby she is carrying, her black lover’s child. A one-night stand, a fulfilled fantasy, a night of passion with a stranger. I cried and shared in the joy of her decision to have her lover’s baby. I longed for the baby I had miscarried, my own black lover’s child. This is Nancy’s story, and my own as well.


Nancy met her fiancée at college. A tall handsome man who picked her out at a social mixer at his fraternity. He was a senior, she a sophomore. She was pretty but it was her innocence and shyness that attracted him. Her awkwardness in the rowdy social setting drew teasing from some and aggressive moves by others to force her into drunkenness. He drew her aside, claiming her from the pack of fraternity jackals, to escort her home, and perhaps to have her that night.

She was grateful to be away from noise and held his hand as they walked, her head clearing of the alcohol fumes in the crisp air. She told him about her life; a small-town girl, excited to be away from the watchful eyes of her protective parents, she was ready to explore the world. A light kiss on the cheek left him disappointed but he called her the next day for a date.

After only a few dates, he took her virginity in a night of frenzied passion that left her wanting more. Within a few weeks she was eagerly exploring her sexuality, to learn how to please him and be pleased by him. She was madly in love, she was complete– a woman with a strong man, a passionate lover, a man that would give her children, and a home.

She was devastated when she caught him cheating, her carefully structured romance, marriage, and perfect future destroyed.

Months later, he pleaded with her to take him back, foolishly she did.

They became engaged, yet Nancy felt unfulfilled. In the months they were apart she had dated but never had sex with another man. She had desires and there had been temptations, but something always held her back. The boys she dated were just like her ex. They were nice and she enjoyed going out again. But there was an emptiness and guilt of inadequacy. How could he have cheated on her?! Had she not given everything to him? Had she failed so badly as his lover that he would seek another woman to satisfy his desires?

She had been afraid to commit to another relationship but when he begged her to forgive him, she gave in too easily. Her doubts remained and, in her mind, she knew she may regret not having explored the world a bit more before becoming a wife and mother.

She knew it was crazy but she just wanted to try something reckless, dangerous, with a romantic stranger. A fantasy? The story in a romance novel consumed on the beach? She knew she would never really go looking for it; but then again, if the opportunity came along, would she take it?

Her fantasy came true one night a few months later.

She was out with her girlfriends at a dance club. They teased her into asking the black DJ if she could dance with him in his booth. One thing led to another; she was still with him when the place closed. He wanted her to go an after-hours club. At first, she said no, but he intimidated her with talk of her being scared to be seen with a black man, or what would her white boyfriend think if she was with the brothers at the club?

Recklessly, she left with this stranger, but they didn’t go to the club. He told her needed to go to his apartment to change. They drove in his car, smoking a joint along the way. Her head was spinning, and she was laughing too loudly as they stumbled through the door of his place. He started kissing her neck and lips, his hands wandering over places she knew she should stop. But she responded, feeling his heat and the passion built from the music, alcohol, and drugs.

Sensing her willingness, he started stripping her, aggressively kissing her now exposed naked breasts. She tried to stop him. This was going too far, well beyond the necking and flirting with a handsome black stranger she intended. In a fog of passion, she blamed herself for being so foolish to think she could control the situation.

He was strong and hungry for her body. He ignored her struggles and weak protests, carrying her to his bedroom, tearing off his clothes. She knew this was wrong, but was this really rape when her body wanted this so badly? Then she thought, “Why am I pretending I am victim? I want this. I need this. I am owed this.”

She had been dreaming of a one-night stand. A revenge fuck for all that pain her soon-to-be husband had put her through. This stranger was certainly the powerful sexual animal she had fantasized about.

When she saw his thick, black manhood, she knew that this was exactly what she wanted, what she needed before spending her life as the faithful wife of an up-and-coming regional sales manager.

Her black stranger was a marvelous lover, bringing her almost instantly to a screaming orgasm with his tongue, as he explored her body with his large hands roaming over her pale breasts and stomach. He instructed her on how he liked to have his cock sucked. She became an eager pupil, her blonde hair falling across his ripped stomach muscles.

She was hot, eager to feel him inside her, but still cautious. What did she know of this man? His hands and body were pressing to penetrate her, and she was becoming desperate for his cock to fill her.

Over his kisses she asked him if he had “protection”? He didn’t, but sensing her concern, he allowed her to get the condom she kept in her purse. It had been in there for months, just in case her fiancée had ever wanted to do something daring, spontaneous, unplanned— like making love in the park or an elevator.

Her black lover waited, his eyes enjoying her milky white body as he stroked his glistening hard black cock. She hesitated, feeling guilty, remembering her fiancée, for the pain it would cause him if he ever found out–the same pain she experienced discovering his infidelity.

While she loved her fiancée, she wondered if he would ever be faithful to their marriage vows? He had failed her before, would he again? Was this black stranger the payback he deserved? But she thought about in for a moment; this is not about revenge, this is about what I need. It would be a one-night fling, a secret moment to last a lifetime.

She returned eagerly to her lover’s bed, ready to pleasure him and be pleasured. Using her lips and the lessons he taught her, she made his cock grow even harder and demanding. He allowed her to roll the condom onto his thick black shaft, stretching it so thin that she thought it might tear. She mounted him, slowly, working his cock, back and forth, her juices coating the condom, and then she lowered herself fully onto his cock, slowly, carefully stretching her pussy to take him in. The whole time he just watched, his dark face grinning as this white girl worked hard to fill her pussy with his black cock, to pleasure him.

When she had finally fully mounted him, she began to ride his black shaft up and down, slowly at first and as her juices began to flow and lubricate, she rode harder and faster, gasping, bringing herself to a sharp quick orgasm. When her shudders subsided, he moved her on to her back and mounted her, spreading her legs wide, driving the full length of his black shaft hard and deep into her eager pussy. He fucked her, bringing her to brink of orgasm again and again, teasing until she begged for him to fuck her more.

He withdrew his cock, she gasped, begging him to fill her, to fuck her. He smiled and pulled off the condom, then sank his black cock deep into her. She cried with relief as he began to fuck her again, hard and steady. She met his every thrust, her hips pressing, lifting to take every inch of him deep within her. With a roar he exploded, pouring his cum into her. She locked her legs around him, rocked with a massive orgasm as his hot seed splashed deep within her.

It was a while before she recovered and began to realize what had happened. The wet spot on the bed was huge from his cum and her juices. The condom was empty, discarded on the floor. With shock she suddenly remembered the joy of feeling his hot sperm jetting against her womb. Suddenly, she was panicked and angered at his excuse that the “rubber didn’t feel right”. He reassured her that he didn’t have AIDS and that he was disease free. For some reason she didn’t even think about getting pregnant.

They made love again as the sun rose, this time with more play and tenderness. After a few hours of sleep, she got dressed, kissed him goodbye forever, and walked out the door to a waiting taxi.

It was early morning when she got back to the apartment she shared with her girlfriend. She took a quick shower and examined her body in the mirror looking for love marks that may give away her night of passion. Her lover’s juices still dripped from her sore pussy and she had to line her panties before she dressed for church. Her fiancée picked her up and afterwards they drove to his parents’ house for Sunday dinner.

At church, during Pastor’s sermon about marriage and family, her mind had wandered; she could only think of the black lover whose bed she had shared a few hours ago. Later, as she listened to her fiancée’s parents talk about grandchildren, she wondered if there was any chance that she was now carrying the black stranger’s baby.

Three weeks later she knew. It was not unusual for her to go long between periods so at first, she did not panic. But soon, she knew the truth without having to take a pregnancy test.

At first, she refused to think that her secret night of passion resulted in the baby now growing in her, but as she studied the calendar, she knew only one man could be the father, a black stranger. She didn’t even know his name.

An abortion was the only solution. But she was scared and needed to talk to someone, to be reassured that this was the right decision. She confided in her roommate.

Her roommate was stunned! Nancy, her sweet friend, innocent church going roomie was now pregnant by that black DJ she picked up at the club last month? Oh, wow! How cool to have a black lover! Her fiancée was a big jerk anyway, she should forget that cheating asshole! Go find that black lover and fuck him some more!

After the tears and sad laughter, they went to the abortion counseling at the campus health service.

She was frightened, but sure of what she needed to do. The nurse was very understanding, comforting, and told her what choices she had including having the baby and giving it up for adoption. But there was a required waiting period and she was required to seek counseling before making any final decision. When she asked to whom she should turn for counseling, they told her that she should use the services of the campus ministry and counseling service. They cautioned her to seek professional counseling, to protect her confidentiality; to find someone who would embrace her regardless of her decision.

Instead, Nancy made a terrible decision to see the Pastor of her church, a man she had grown to trust and respect. He had recoiled in horror as she described her night of betrayal with a black stranger and her decision to have an abortion. In his anger he called her a slut, a whore, a bitch in heat, white-trash who would burn in hell for having an abortion!

She was shattered, tears flowing as his hateful words hit her like bullets. But then his anger turned to lust. He started to attack her, to tear at her blouse and skirt. He pulled his puny white dick from his pants, attempting to force her head down to satisfy his rigid pencil.

She was terrified, then mad, screaming and kicking him, she ran from his office. As he lay doubled over on the floor, he screamed at her to never come back, that he would tell her fiancée. There were a group of ladies from the congregation setting up flower decorations for the Sunday service. They heard the screams and shouts of anger, and several recognized Nancy as she fled through the church disheveled and crying.

She fled to her apartment, exhausted she collapsed, crying herself to sleep. The pounding on the door woke her. It was her fiancée, someone she loved and who loved her. She desperately needed him to hold her, to help wash away the horror of this day.

He slapped her hard across the face, and then again, spinning her back into the apartment. He stood over her as she lay on the floor stunned, demanding his engagement ring back. She lifted her hand, he tore it from her finger, twisting it hurtfully. She cowered from his anger as he slapped her head and arms before storming off. She cried after him begging him to forgive her, but he never said a word.

When her roommate returned that evening, Nancy was alone in the dark and thinking of suicide. She called Nancy’s parents begging for them to come. They had already heard some terrible and hurtful words from the fiancée and had been trying to reach her. But Nancy had turned off her cell to end the threatening phone calls from the Pastor, warning her not to tell anyone of his attempted rape.

Nancy went home to the comfort and love of her parents. They were dismayed by her foolishness but shocked by the actions of her fiancée and Pastor. Over the next few weeks, her parents rebuilt her confidence and hopes for the future; however, they lived in a small town where nice white girls just do not date black men and, God forbid, do not have their babies.

The time for an easy abortion was quickly running out and Nancy returned to the college clinic. She asked about the process for putting the baby up for adoption. The papers were complicated, the process long but finally she was through them, except for: Father’s name? and, Agreement to surrender parental rights? It would not have been lying if she had answered ‘Unknown’ to both.

She never knew his name and wasn’t sure she could find his apartment again. But for some reason she felt the need to find him and tell him of her decision. She needed closure. Closure on this horrible part of her life, to start a new beginning without recrimination.

She went back to the club where they had met but he was not working there. Two clubs later, she found him. He recognized her immediately and told her how much he had missed fucking her beautiful tight white pussy. He closed down early, anxious to be with her, to take that beautiful body again.

Back at his apartment he took a quick shower and lay naked on the sofa stroking himself, watching her undress, savoring her trim white body. He told her to come suck his cock, to show him that she had not forgotten how. She had not. She worked her tongue and lips over its head and shaft until he cried out and exploded, cum shooting into her mouth, pouring from her lips.

She waited for him to recover before telling him the reason for her visit. He was at first angry, assuming she was there to get money, and doubting it was his baby. She reassured him she only wanted his consent on the papers. But then he hesitated, told her that she was a great fuck, that he liked the idea of a white girl having his black baby. He asked her what her whiteboy fiancée was going to say about her having been fucked and bred by a black man?

She broke down and told him what had happened. Her tears melting his heart, he comforted her, told her she was a wonderful woman, and deserved a better man.

She stayed the night and the next day with him. They made love several times, his black cock filling her, making her cry out with pleasure. His tender kisses and touch began to wash away hurt and anger. It was not love but it was the comfort she needed.

When it came time for her to leave, she kissed him and told him she was grateful to him, not just for the comfort he had given her but for the baby she was now sure she wanted to bring into this world.

He was surprised at how strongly he now felt towards her, needing to protect her, to protect the woman who would bear his child. He asked her to stay, but she refused, but promised to visit him again in a few weeks. They exchanged email addresses and phone numbers.

For several weeks, he called and emailed every day. Her parents were not sure what to do. They knew this was the black man who had gotten their daughter pregnant and wanted nothing to do with him. But at the same time, Nancy seemed to appreciate his attentiveness and opened up to him.

Soon her belly grew to where she could not disguise it anymore and she moved back to the college town. Her old roommate was now living with someone else in a tiny apartment. She stayed with them for one night and began to look for someplace else.

She called her black lover just to let him know she was back. He insisted that she stay with him for at least a few of days while she looked for an apartment. A week became two, then three, and then four months had passed. The whole time she shared his bed satisfying his needs, giving him her body in return for shelter and his affection. Sadly, there was no true love, just a relationship built around her swelling belly.

As Nancy grew near her time, she no longer talked about putting her baby up for adoption. We cried together as she talked about being a single mom and how hard it would be.

She despaired that she could never go to home to raise her bi-racial child. I told her she was terribly wrong! She needed to be with her family. Her parents would love her baby! How could she ever doubt that? A parent’s love is unconditional! They loved her and they would love her baby. Trust in them I pleaded to her, they will ignore the scorn of others. True friends will come to support you.

Her lover said he wanted to be a real father to the baby. While her affection for him had grown, she knew that he was not the type of man that would be there for them. She enjoyed being with him, being his lover, and companion but planned no future with him. She left him a note on the kitchen table.

You are a wonderful friend and generous lover. You comforted me when I needed it most and gave me strength. You saved me from marrying a monster. I am forever grateful but we both know that what we share is not love, but affection.

I will always welcome you into our daughter’s life. I will treasure and love this life you have given me. Be my friend forever.


She was content with her decision. A night of passion with a black stranger, a quick taste of the forbidden fruit, had saved her from a life with a man she would have grown to despise.


I have not heard from Nancy for several months. Her last note thanked me, talked about how her parents welcomed her home with love, embracing her and the joy she would bring into their lives with her baby. She thanked me for my friendship, but it was I who grateful. Nancy had the courage to bear her black lover’s child. I did not. My miscarriage was purposeful, something I will always regret.

I imagine her brown baby suckling at her pale breasts. I pray she will find love and support for her new life. As I sleep next to my husband, I often imagine myself in her place and wonder what my life would be like if I had born my black lover’s child.