The Seychelles

Chelsie stretched out on her lounger, next the the cerulean sea and a flawless blue sky. Douglas was next to her, eyeing her tattoos, a small bulge in his pants.

"Hey, keep your eyes to yourself, mister," she said teasingly.

"Sorry," Douglas said, chuckling.

"Why'd you bring me out here anyway? This is pretty fancy pants stuff. Got some African for me to fuck?"

"No, actually ... " Douglas said. He paused, thinking of how to say this. "I wanted to ask you this before. I like you, Chelsie, a lot. I like Meadow too, but I like you most."

"Thanks, Douglas, I think," Chelsie said. "You're making me sound a little bipolar or like I've got multiple personalities though. I've got a shtick, and I've got me. And the two aren't entirely dissimilar."

Douglas sighed. This was coming out all wrong.

"I love you, Chelsie. I don't want to be a suitcase pimp, I don't want to find you a cuckold, I want to be your husband. Your cuckold husband." He got down on one knee, pulling out a ring with a glittering diamond on it. Chelsie's face made a cute 'o'.

"You're serious, aren't you baby. Well ... you know we're not going to fuck, right? I may play up the BNWO stuff some as Meadow ... but I've only fucked Black men, and I intend to keep doing that. And you know our kids will be Black."

"I know. I was drawn to you because of that, and I don't want to change that about you."

"Well then ... yes," she said. She hugged Douglas tightly, giving him a long, wet soulful kiss.

"Now we need an African to celebrate with," Douglas said, smiling.

"Hear, hear!"