“Black Magic” by R.J. Fox

He thought it was a brilliant idea from the moment of its inception. Of course, most ideas seem so at the start, before being tossed aside into a proverbial trash heap. For some reason, this particular one continued to percolate in his mind – lingering like a fart that didn’t know its time was up.

The idea arrived on the heels of convincing his wife, Emily, to give porn a chance in an awkward attempt to spice up their increasingly dormant sex life.

Following the birth of their son Cody, Bill and Emily suffered from the same fate so many couples face: neglect – or more specifically from his standpoint, sexual neglect. Pre-pregnancy, their sex life was great. Post-pregnancy, it ceased to exist. In fact, they even slept in separate bedrooms, on the account of Bill’s excessive snoring. Bill certainly understood … to a degree – especially during the first year. However, there was a selfish part of him that didn’t think it was that unreasonable to expect sex at least once a month. He wasn’t asking for marathon sessions. She always preferred quickies, anyway, often growing frustrated waiting for him.

Two years later, the well was completely dry. She reassured him time and time again that it was all her – despite frequent complaints that his cock was less than adequate in both design and functionality. However, it is impossible for even the most self-assured man not to lose his confidence when his wife flat-out refuses sex. At first, she blamed it on her body-image issues following the birth of their son, despite his constant assurances that she looked great. In fact, she was back to her pre-pregnancy weight in no time.

Her issue wasn’t so much with her body in its entirety, but in her vagina itself, which she described in the manner of “elephant hide,” or “a raisin left out in the sun too long.” From Bill’s vantage point, everything looked status quo so far as he could tell. Of course, she never let him get too close to have a very thorough look, so who was he to judge?

She kept assuring him that after breastfeeding, her sex drive would resume. But as it turned out, it was the exact opposite. After going over three months without sex after their son turned one, Bill entertained the thought of finding a mistress for strictly sexual purposes. However, he remembered that he didn’t have enough confidence in himself to approach the opposite sex under “normal” conditions – let alone under the condition of being a married man. He briefly considered purchasing a hooker before giving strip clubs a shot, but after dropping over $100 in two hours, he realized it was not only too expensive – but too risky – to make a habit out of it. He was simply going to have to settle for old-fashioned masturbation. It was his fate.

Aside from their now practically non-existent sex life, Bill saw a more serious issue emerging: Emily’s depression. After a few months of holding steady, her depression seemed to be getting exponentially worse. Depression was one thing, but her tendency to become both emotionally abusive (e.g. verbal jabs such as “loser!” “freak” and “mama’s boy”) and physically (e.g. it wasn’t uncommon for Bill to find himself curled into a ball, blocking kicks to the ribs). Somehow, despite the abuse, he still desired her sexually. Anti-depressants didn’t help matters. They made her only slightly less depressed and abusive, and even less horny. She briefly upped her meds, but that only amplified the side effects. The emotional and physical abuse subsided (for the most part), but by the same token, he wished she didn’t have to be on drugs to pretend to like him. They briefly attended marriage counseling, but that only put a further strain on their relationship, since Emily was offended by everything Bill shared with the counselor, despite it being not only the truth, but both relevant and necessary information. After becoming convinced that the counselor (a female) mostly sided with Bill, she demanded that they quit following their third and final session.

Compounding the situation was the fact that Emily did not allow herself even a modicum of free time, stopping all the activities she used to enjoy: exercise, reading, seeing friends, and painting. Even her closest friends – all with kids of their own – tried to convince her about the importance of doing something for herself every now and then, but it fell on deaf ears.

Bill did everything he could to motivate her: gift cards, massage appointments, insisting on letting him have alone time with the baby in exchange for time to herself. However, his efforts resulted in Emily getting upset at him for always “pressuring her to have fun”. He eventually backed off, assuming that every new mother went through this, ultimately making him feel guilty that he didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to do these things … she just couldn’t find the time.

In the meantime, his hormones were skyrocketing. He felt like a victim that the world should take pity on. And he hated himself for it. By the same token, he knew something had to be done about it.

And that’s when he saw his window of opportunity.

It started after Emily finished her second glass of wine – a rarity for her. With lowered inhibitions, she agreed to watch porn with him, paving the way for the best sex they’ve had in almost two years. Initially, nothing seemed to do the trick until striking gold in the form of a large, black cock drilling a petite, blonde, white chick. It was just the elixir she needed. In fact, it was the first time she came in months. To be fair, they only had sex 2 ½ times during that period, so the sample size was small, but it was enough to realize it wasn’t leaving her satisfied nonetheless.

After a rare, simultaneous and satisfying finish, they even cuddled together – a rare moment of post-coital intimacy (he was typically the cuddler – not her).

“So, do you watch porn a lot?” she asked him out of the blue, staring down at his incredibly shrinking penis.


“Oh …,” Emily said, with a mix of disappointment and disgust in her tone.

“What choice do I have?” Bill asked, suddenly feeling like a perv.

“You can’t get off without porn?”
“Of course! But sometimes, I just get bored. Admit it, you liked it,” Bill said, trying it to flip the table.

“Not really. Well, maybe at the end.”

“The black dude?”

“I mean, I think every woman … nevermind,” she said, blushing.

“Wants to be with a black man?” he said, completing her sentence.

“Well … I don’t know. Just something different, I guess.”

“Have you always had a thing for black guys?”
“I mean, they have crossed my mind from time to time.”

“What about an Asian?” I asked.

“Not attracted to them. Plus, they aren’t exactly known for having … you know.” Resorting to base stereotypes was typically not in her nature, but apparently this trait went out the window as far as penises were concerned. Bill decided to play along. He had not problem playing the stereotyping game. In his mind, he never encountered a stereotype that wasn’t true, therefore justifying his sentiment. Furthermore, even his career in advertising thrived on stereotypes. If he learned anything, taking his “audience” into consideration meant pandering to base stereotypes.

“So what if an Asian were hung like a black man … or, a black mere was hung like an Asian?” Bill asked.

“That would be … unlikely. And unfortunate,” Emily said. Something about this conversation must have turned Emily on. It was certainly turning Bill on. For the first time, in a long time, they had a second round. He fancied himself a well-hung black man. He imagined she did the same. They came together again seconds later. It was moments afterward, after they both started drifting off to sleep following their pornapalooza extravaganza, that the first draft of his master plan was conceived. The idea snapped him fully awake with a jolt that would continue to gnaw at him for months, intensifying until there was no turning back. It was just a matter of working out the logistics. It would be the perfect birthday gift.

In the meantime, he was hopeful that this great sexcapade was the exact catalyst needed to spark his wife’s engine for the long-term. If so, his master plan would no longer be necessary.

Her birthday was still three months away, so he had plenty of time to evaluate the situation and get his ducks in a row to pull it off if need be. Five weeks passed before they had sex again. And it wasn’t anywhere in the ballpark of good sex. Her facial expressions pre, during, and post was akin to someone getting a root canal. She even admitted that she was doing it simply out of pity and obligation, rather than for her own gain. She didn’t even come close to coming, which was unusual for even her. The time had come to activate his grand plan after all – despite the realization that it would a.) require a bit of a sacrifice on his part b.) that it wasn’t exactly in the spirit of true gift giving, and c.) that he had no idea where to even begin.

A couple more sexless weeks went by and Bill’s plan was growing impotent. Meanwhile, Emily’s depression seemed to be worsening. The height of a Michigan winter certainly didn’t help matters. She started counseling again, even upping her anti-depressant intake, but nothing seemed to help.

With her birthday quickly approaching, it was time to buckle down and thrust his plan to action: he was going to find his wife a well-hung black man to secretly seduce her with two primary aims: 1.) to help his wife feel good about life again and 2.) to create the opportunity for a one-time encounter that would be the spark that lead to a more satisfying sex life – for both of them. Of course, there was no guarantee either of these goals would be reached. But it was certainly worth a try.

In the meantime, he decided to test the waters by surprising her with a giant, black dildo (expertly marketed as “Black Magic”) he bought at a seedy sex shop. At first, she was apprehensive – not to mention a bit intimidated. But upon initial entry, she couldn’t get enough. At first, she allowed him to participate and assist her. Soon, she let him only watch as she went to town on herself. Shortly after that, she shut him out completely, before eventually growing tired of it all together.

The time had to come to find his wife some real ‘black magic.” The first question was … how? Logistically, he knew this was going to be a challenge. It wasn’t that he didn’t know any black people. He had both friends and colleagues that were black. One issue was, his wife knew them all. Secondly, most of them were married. Furthermore, it was probably best not to get other people he knew involved with his plan. Finally, how was he to know just how endowed someone was? He realized he was operating under the assumption that all black men were hung like a horse and that there was no guarantee. In fact, the only black dicks he had seen were in porn. Even a “stereotypist” like himself knew that wasn’t enough of a sample size. Then again, would the size even matter? Bill realized that it was more of a matter of seduction. The dick would simply follow and if it got that point, she wasn’t likely to back out if it was only a Vienna sausage, rather than giant stick of salami. Or would she?

Despite several logistical concerns, at least he had a target date in mind: in a couple of weeks, Emily’s friends were going to take her out for her annual girls-night birthday gathering. It was just a matter of finding her a potential suitor. He considered hiring a male escort, figuring a professional would know exactly what to do. But he wanted the experience to be bit more organic … not to mention cheaper. His thoughts about hiring his wife a male hooker mirrored the thoughts he had about hiring a female one for himself. Enter Craigslist. Of course! If he was willing to let his wife fuck another man, he should at least have the opportunity to vet out the best candidate for the job. After writing numerous drafts, the ad he ultimately posted read as follows:

Looking for confident, attractive BM to seduce attractive MWF at husband’s secret request. Must have large cock (at least 8 inches). Must have experience in seduction. Must be smooth.


Bill had no idea what kind of responses his ad would solicit – if any. His biggest concern wasn’t that he was likely to be accused of being racially offensive, but that he would be threatened for being racially offensive, which he realized was a stereotypical assumption in itself. Although he, himself, didn’t find it personally offensive, he could certainly see how some might, despite being in total disagreement with them. But to his surprise, there were no threats. In fact, he quickly learned that there was apparently no shortage of SBM that want the opportunity to seduce MWFs. Within two days, he had 150 responses. He decided to cap it off at that point and begin the vetting process, meeting each candidate in a seedy dive bar in Detroit on his lunch hour, in turn making his actions seem even more … seedy.

He had a certain type of black man in mind: Taye Diggs came most clearly to mind. Or a younger Denzel. This was easier said than done. Most guys were not even remotely close. Just when he was beginning to think all hope was lost, his wife’s potential knight in shining armor arrived, fitted in a suit, skinny tie, short-cropped hair, and handsome, studious looks. Surely, his wife would be unable to resist.

The men shook hands.



“So, you’re interested in seducing my wife?” Bill asked.

“It’s why I’m here, right?”

Bill nodded.

“What kind of timeframe are we talking here?”

“Next Friday is your best bet. Does that work for you?” Bill asked.

“Works for me,” Dante replied.

“Are you clean?” Bill asked.

“Cleaner than a mother fucking whistle.”

“So how big we talking?” Bill asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Your … um—“

“I’m not gonna have to show it, am I?” Dante pleaded.

“No. I’ll take your word for it.”

“No complaints. Unless you want to count ‘it hurts.’”

“Oh … wow,” Bill said, feeling greatly diminished as a male. “Sounds great.”

“I am great,” Dante said in full swagger mode.

“So, then how long are we talking here?”

“10 inches. Eleven on a good day.”

Bill’s eyes bulged out of his head as he mouthed: “Wow.” He was suddenly reminded of all the times his wife affectionately referred him to him as “shrimp dick.”

“Does that match your criteria?” Dante said with smug arrogance.

“I’d say,” Bill said.

“If we’re going to be superficial here, what does she look like?”

Bill removed his wallet and proudly showed off the picture of his wife from their wedding day.

“Nice,” Dante said.

“Thanks,” Bill replied.

“So, what’s the deal?” Dante said.

“You mean the price?”

“No. I mean, why are you doing this? Is it legit?”

“Of course.”
“Just want to know what I’m getting into here.”

“Here’s the deal. I’m trying to figure out how to get my wife horny again. I’m certainly not getting the job done. I’m also looking for my wife to learn how to have fun again. To do something different. To regain her adventurous spirit.”

“And you expect someone like me to be able to get the job done?”

“Well, yeah … so what do you mean someone like you?”

“A black man.”

“Yes. But not just any black man. Someone like—“

“You mean, not a ‘nigger,’” Dante stated bluntly.

Bill’s jaw dropped. He was thrown for a loop as the racial implications lurking behind this whole enterprise into full view. In fact, he suddenly wished he could disappear all together. Then again, Bill hoped that as much as he was using Dante for his skin color, Dante was selfishly pursuing this opportunity for the same reasons.

“Well, I don’t like using language like that,” Bill finally said, in an attempt to sound as non-racist as possible, despite the racism simmering beneath the surface of the whole shebang, buried beneath the added layer of the ridiculous premise itself.

“I know what you mean. But what makes you so sure a brother like me can be the magic wand your wife needs?”

“Of course, I don’t know for sure.”

“Has she expressed an interest in black men before?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

“Let me guess. In a porno?”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“Every white woman’s secret fantasy. Well, some aren’t so secretive about it,” Dante said, smugly.

“I’m just hoping you can provide a little … spark.”

Dante let out a confident chuckle.

“’A Little spark?’ As in a big black dick?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Bill said. “So, are you interested?”

“I would do this for free. But I’m guessing that isn’t an option.”

“Well, I would feel better if I could pay you. To make it more official. To perhaps serve as motivation to push you a little harder.”

“So how much?”



“Okay, deal. I’m going to pay you up front so I don’t have to see you again after tonight. But there’s one stipulation: this is a one-time offer. You are not to give her your number. You can give her a fake number, but not your real number. You are not to force her into anything she doesn’t want to do. Come on her strong, but back off if she resists. If she agrees to leave with you, but she changes her mind later, you back off. Deal?”

Bill offered his hand.

“Deal,” Dante said, giving him a firm handshake, staring him directly in the eye. No way she’ll be able to resist, Bill thought.

After giving Dante the details about Emily’s birthday plans, Bill handed Dante $200 in cash, throwing in ten extra dollars for good measure, then exchanged contact numbers. Before they parted, they agreed that a successful launch would be confirmed with a text that read “Ace in the hole.” Dante walked out of the bar. Bill never saw him again.

His wife’s “big” night out finally approached and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Throughout the week leading up to it, they fought a lot, which Bill figured might actually work in his favor by increasing the odds that his Emily would be more vulnerable to Dante’s advances. However, the plan almost backfired when she tried to call the whole shebang off in the midst of yet another argument. This prompted her to lock herself in their bedroom for five straight hours before her best friend Stacey convinced her that she owed it to herself to have a fun night out.

“Have fun,” Bill said, as his wife put her coat on. She looked so beautiful and he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy – not to mention regret. After all, he practically set the table for his wife to fall into a snake pit – or more specifically, onto a large python.

“Thanks,” she said, before heading over to Cody, who was sitting on the floor, quietly sucking on a teething ring. She gave him a kiss goodbye, then walked right past Bill and out the door, without so much as even a peck on the cheek.

“I love you,” Bill said. She either didn’t hear him, or ignored him. He watched her as she got into her car, and drove off into the dark night. She was driving over to Stacey’s, where she would be spending the night. All Dante had to do was work his charm.

Bill took out his phone, hesitated, then finally texted his hired gun: “Confirmed.”

A few seconds later, Dante replied back: “I got this.”

Bill turned toward Cody, who was still chewing on his teether. He picked Cody up and immediately felt the urge to call the whole thing off. What in the hell am I thinking? Nothing good could come out of this. Could it?

Fighting off his conflicted feeling, Bill put his son into his high chair and fed him, trying to fight off the unanticipated, growing envy in the pit of his stomach. As he stared at their son – he suddenly realized how irresponsible his actions were. After all, he was potentially compromising the unity of his family. Sure, things weren’t perfect, but was it worth risking it all? What if things go so well with Dante that it opens up a Pandora’s box? He tried to push these thoughts away, but they kept fighting back. He knew all he had to do was let Dante know it was off. After all, Dante already had his money. And if Dante were as smooth as Bill assumed he was, then he would have no trouble finding someone else to sleep with. In fact, Dante probably had a greater chance if that someone wasn’t married at all.

The most likely scenario was that Emily would reject Dante’s advances anyway, but she would at least get a confidence boost out of it (for her sake) and hopefully a hormonal rush (for both their sake). With that, he focused on cleaning up his son and enjoying the final hour with him before putting him to bed, taking comfort in the fact that there was still time to abort the mission if he so chose.

Bill watched Cody playing with a Little People car. After a couple of minutes of uninterrupted play, Cody looked up at his daddy, smiling through his pacifier. After giving his son his goodnight bottle, he took him upstairs to complete his bedtime ritual. While struggling to change Cody’s diaper, it dawned on Bill how much of their relationship issues were his fault. If only he had done more to help out, perhaps Emily would be less stressed and things never would have come to this. By now, it was too late. The damage was already done – or at least underway.

After kissing his son goodnight, Bill headed downstairs, where he sat on the couch in silence, fully aware that Dante was probably already working his magic on his wife. And if so, what was she thinking? What were her friends thinking? Perhaps they would be jealous? After all, they were the ones who were single … or divorced. Would they try to pull her away? Or, would they delight in the attention their friend was receiving. After all, it was her birthday party. And why wasn’t he there? Why didn’t he do more to advocate for getting a babysitter, instead of quickly surrendering it as a possibility?

He fought off both the urge to text Dante with all of his might and the urge to call his wife. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy, despite the fact that if she welcomed Dante’s advances, she was also in the wrong.

In an effort to distract himself, Bill grabbed a beer, and flipped through the channels, registering nothing but white noise in his mind as he imagined what was likely happening to a bar across town: the flirtation, the buying of drinks, the subsequent bumping and grinding on the dance floor, where his wife would be taken off guard at the monstrosity lurking in Dante’s pants. A couple of more drinks in, she would realize she wanted to take that black monstrosity in her pale hand, her round, soft mouth and puffy red lips wrapped around Dante’s python shaft, before taking it fully inside her – his firm, black dick penetrating through her perfectly shaved pussy.

Bill suddenly became aware of the throbbing monstrosity (albeit on a much smaller scale) inside his own pants. He was also throbbing with jealousy. It was a strange cocktail of emotions.

Bill decided he couldn’t take it anymore and sent his wife a text: “Having fun?” Several seconds went by. No response. A few minutes went by and still nothing. She probably can’t hear her phone Bill said to reassure himself. An hour later, he still hadn’t received a reply. He tried calling her again, but still no luck.

Frustrated and fueled with jealousy, he opened up his laptop and located a porno featuring a black man with a ginormous cock who vaguely resembled Dante, pounding a white chick who vaguely resembled his wife. With a cock fully engorged with envy, he went to town, alternating between finishing off his beer, and finishing himself off not just once, but twice with time left in the video to spare.

Afterward, he slumped on the couch with his pants down to his ankles and started drifting off to sleep, still holding his steadily deflating shrimp dick. He awoke with a jolt, with his shriveled dick glued to his hand. He forced himself up and pulled up his pants. He then checked his phone to see if he missed a call or text. He did not. He thought about texting her again, but didn’t want to pester her anymore. Realizing he had nobody to blame but himself, he headed upstairs to go to bed, feeling like the most pathetic man on the planet. He slowly drifted off to sleep.

The sound of a text woke him an hour or so later. He checked his phone: “Heading back to Stacey’s. Goodnight. ILU.”

“Ok,” he texted back. “Luv u 2.”

What was he to believe? He realized it could have just as easily been a lie as much as it was the truth. There was always a fine line to straddle. However, he got his answer a half hour later when another text woke him up: “Ace in the hole.”

Guess you get what you pay for, Bill thought to himself, opting not to reply back. He slowly fell back to sleep.

The sound of his crying son woke him up. It was 6:30. He hoped it had all been a dream. But his empty bed suggested otherwise. With reality setting in, he pictured his wife’s snow-white body pressed up against Dante’s dark chocolate one, as the sun filtered through a bedroom window somewhere in Detroit. Bill struggled to shake these thoughts, before retrieving his Cody from his crib.

“Good morning, little dude,” Bill said, kissing him on the cheek, before heading downstairs and putting him in his high chair. He prepared Cody’s breakfast and started brewing coffee, making enough for his presumably sleep-deprived wife.

Just as he gave his son his first spoonful of cereal, the front door opened. Mommy was home.

“Good morning,” Emily said, clearly hungover. As she walked over to give Cody a kiss, Bill was pretty sure he detected a slight limp in wife’s step. Then again, it simply could have been his imagination.

“How was your night?” he asked.

“It was … nice” she said, pouring a cup of coffee with cross between a smile and a smirk. She sat down at the table, taking a sip of her coffee. She drank it black.

“Are you glad you went?”

She nodded with a smile.

“Yes. Thank you. I really needed that”

“I’m happy for you,” Bill said. Little else was said between them. In fact, Emily spent most of the day in bed, recovering from her hangover.

That evening, after they put Cody down in his crib, Emily initiated sex. In fact, they started having sex on a more frequent basis – not to mention better quality sex. She went out more frequently, too. But Bill was fine with that. Early on, he was a bit suspicious and considered snooping around on his wife’s phone to see if any calls or texts matched up with Dante’s. He even considered contacting Dante directly. But in the end, he decided to leave well enough alone. They were happy again. And in the end, that’s all that really mattered.

2 thoughts on ““Black Magic” by R.J. Fox

  1. Pingback: The Escort | Flynn Grinder

  2. Pingback: “Black Magic” by R.J. Fox published in Contraposition Magazine | R.J. Fox

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