C|Suite Letters: My Wife, The Nagger

C|Suite is a men's magazine founded by Frank Cervi. It combines urban/office life-style articles with soft-core pornographic pictorials. In recent years, C-Suite introduced the 'letters' column in which readers send in borderline ridiculous sexcapades, resulting often in explicit and unnecessary detail.

My Wife, The Nagger

C|Suite Letters

Dear C|Suite: In the beginning, my black wife Tanisha was the star of my life. When we would go to events, dinners, family functions and office Christmas parties, everyone would remark on how beautiful she was—thin, young, tighter than a crawlspace.

I was proud to parade her around on my shoulder, receiving much praise for how ‘progressive’ I was for dating, and ultimately marrying a black woman…sorry….woman of color…I mean, a colored woman. Little did I know, underneath the façade, she was just like all the rest of them—a lazy, fuck’n, nagger.

Last year’s office Christmas party was of particular highlight. When Tanisha and I walked into the venue, we parted ways. She went to check out the charcuterie bar; I went to talk to my buddy, Glen. Glen had never met my wife.

“So, is that your wife over there by the charcuterie?” He remarked.

“If by ‘wife’ you mean that fat nagger over there stuffing her face with shrimp, then yes, Glen.” I nonchalantly answered.

“Whoa, buddy! That’s no way to talk about your wife like that….it’s 2018, bro. Dropping the N-bomb, dude!”

“But Glen, she is a nagger. I mean, you can’t really tell by looking at her right now…but trust me.”

“What do you mean by ‘looking at her’? I can see that she looks like one from over here.”

“Oh, you can?” I asked inquisitively.

As Glen and I exchanged puzzled looks, Tanisha must’ve seen us talking and decided to storm her fat black ass over toward us.

“Thanks for not getting me any champagne while I was at the shrimp bar, honey! You know, it would be nice if you thought about me for a change instead of flapping your gums to your friends all night!”

Tanisha had then left to go get her own glass of Veuve Clicquot.

I looked at my friend Glen’s face as a sea of clarity seemed to have washed over him.

“You see, Glen.” I confirmed to him. “I told you she was a fuck'n nagger.”

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Years ago, however, things were different between Tanisha and I, during the honeymoon phase of our relationship that is. I was a foolish man; young, dumb and wanted to cum. Blinded by her silky skin tone, I couldn’t see past her Amazonian beauty and couldn’t fathom the possibility, nor accept that maybe she was just an ordinary nagger—like the rest of them.

A closet nagger, trying to pretend that she didn’t come from a line of other naggers: Her father is a nagger, her mom, a nagger; even a few of her siblings are showing signs of turning into naggers instead of wholesome black folks from Texas who were brought-up right: Taught to never nit-pick or berate people for petty shit!

It was indeed, stupid to think that I hadn’t been dating a nagger this entire time!

I mean, I am tolerant of all attitudes and behaviors; it’s 2019. However, it’s really difficult to take naggers seriously, and you can only take so much naggery before you just want to curb-stomp (make her bite the curb) your wife and beat her ass like Rodney King!

I mean, c’mon! My wife nags me for the dumbest shit like forgetting to re-subscribe to BET after we 'switched' providers(stole cable from our rich neighbors). Or picking up a 12-pack of Grape drink instead of a 24-pack.

Back then, I was fanatical about my wife; she would often give me blowjobs like they were going out of style—most nights she would lick and suck my cock as if it were a KFC 'two bucket night'.

An all you can eat boner buffet, getting all the meat off the bone, savoring those juices— picking pieces of pubes out of her teeth from those deep and passionate dick-suck lips of hers, sliding down the shaft of my shlong, going all the way down to the base of my balls.

I still remember the day, fondly, when Tanisha and I were driving home from IKEA. That day, she was in the driver’s seat; it was her car. She was speeding. I told her that maybe she should slow down a bit. She didn’t listen, instead told me to shut-up and to ‘quit ya bitch’n, babe’.

Immediately, after Tanisha had given me the riot act about ‘oppressing’ her as a female driver, we got lit-up by a police officer and were pulled over.

Instead of calmly trying to talk the officer down from a speeding ticket and an expired tag, my wife proceeded to berate and nag the officer for ‘not doing his job’ –catching ‘real’ criminals instead of wasting his time with us—and even yelled and raised her voice several times at the officer, even though he was a step away from her window.

After the officer spanked Tanisha with a huge fine and a speeding ticket, she began to lecture me on the premise that the only reason why he pulled us over, and slapped that harsh fine on her, was because ‘she was driving while being Black’.

At that point, enough was enough and I just simply told her: “Maybe the reason why that officer was so hard on you was because…. you’re a fuck'n nagger!”

Ah, memories.

But ya, nobody, especially officers in Texas, enjoy dealing with naggers—like my wife, who can be a real annoying, fuck'n nagger a lot of times.

Back in the early years when I began fucking, sorry, ‘dating’ my soon-to-be wife, I’d always looked forward to treating her vagina as if I were James Bond infiltrating a Soviet submarine—shooting seamen in a tight space.

Since my wife had quit her job at the DMV, she gained 200 pounds—12 of those pounds were added to her pussy (FUPA)— she is now on welfare (parasite), while I still slave away on the plantation (aka, A Net tax- payer).

In those years, after work, it was a no-questions-asked type of entrance. I would step foot into the front foyer of our bungalow and she’d be there to greet me with a nice, smooth, blowjob: I would stand there while Tanisha zipped down my fly, un-buttoned my pants, and let my tenacious ‘D’ flop out toward the orifice in question—her wet, greasy mouth that had been previously penetrated by a drumstick of the Colonel’s finest chicken.

A post KFC blowjob was my favorite and she knew that. Pussy juice ain't got nothing on the slickness of deep-fried, chicken grease!

Those were the days, yup. I feel like an old White man lamenting sometimes. Talking and reminiscing about the ‘Golden Years’: A time where everything in the world was straight and right; an era long gone.

A time in where there weren’t many naggers around; a strong pimp-hand was in the household.

Today, instead of the no-questions-asked entrance in where my bodacious black wife would suck on my cock as if it were the answer to all of life’s problems, she just asks me petty passive-aggressive questions.

Now, women like my wife just parasite off you, steal from your wallet, vote Democrat for the free gibs (other people’s money), cheat the family court system, and think they are entitled to everything, including your time without putting any value back into the agreement or system.

They are all the same: Just a bunch of lazy, thieving, goddamn, naggers.

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