tagLesbian SexBlack Woman's White Female Slave

Black Woman's White Female Slave

bySamuelx©

The things I do never quite cease to amaze me. Yet I must do them. Driven by impulse, or something even stronger perhaps. My name is Magdalena Wilson. A six-foot-one, dark-skinned and very voluptuous young Black woman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I attend the University of Massachusetts, Boston campus. I'm a Criminal Justice major, and someday I'm going to be a police officer. Like both of my parents before me. UMass-Boston has become my second home, of sorts. And for the most part, it's not bad. I've grown accustomed to campus life. It's what I do in my spare time that's extraordinary. And it's the subject of this story.

Right now, I'm striding through Westgate Mall in the city of Brockton. I see lots of people. Black people. Asians. Hispanics. And here and there, a few Whites. I see young Black and Hispanic guys walking with their buddies and hollering at big-booty Black, Hispanic and even White chicks walking by. I see young White guys walking around in urban gear ( with Bling-Bling around their necks ) trying to look tough. I see White chicks who look like Valley Girls walking around with their girlfriends and their moms. I see a good-looking Black man holding hands with a petite, sexy Asian woman. I see a very tall and really skinny Black woman holding hands with a short, stocky Black guy with a fedora. I guess there are some Black people who still date each other. Good to know. On campus, I know about three or four Black guys who still date Black chicks. That's it.

Brockton is a melting pot, more so than most cities in this part of the country. That's just the way I like my hometown. Brockton is one of the most diverse towns in New England. African-Americans, Hispanics and Asians along with Cape Verdeans now outnumber Caucasians of all stripes in town. Yet a decade ago, it was the reverse. The winds of change have come to Brockton, and they're here to stay. As I scan the crowd, I look for my prey. I smile when I see the one who will be my bitch.

My eyes zero in my prey. A short, plump and rather pale ( even for a White person ) young woman with blonde hair and pale green eyes. I saw her coming out of FYE with a bag in hand. I caught her looking at me a few times. Our eyes meet and I instantly know that I was right about her. She is definitely prey. Her eyes rove over my tall, athletic yet curvy body and I can tell that she likes what she sees. The plump White chick is most definitely a dyke. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I head to a nearby store and she follows suit. I know she wants me. White folks don't really like to buy stuff from PCX, the Black-owned and operated urban outfitter. Just like Black folks don't care to buy stuff from the Goth store at Westgate. I guess some things never change.

As I look at a nice blue T-shirt, the blonde plumper accosts me. She smiles, and introduces herself as Mandy Stone. I look her up and down. I shake Mandy's hand. Of course she's Mandy. Such a White chick's name. Mandy smiles and tells me she noticed me for a while. She giggles, and wonders what such an attractive woman like me is doing by herself at the mall. I look her up and down. My, someone's forward. My gal pal Kyana once told me that big White girls are sexually aggressive. Must be why they snare so many Black and Hispanic guys. Kyana's got a lot of wild theories about all kinds of people but today I guess she's right. Mandy and I start talking. I know for a fact that she came into PCX only to cruise me but she makes a show of buying a Black hooded sweatshirt featuring African-American superstar 50 Cent. I shake my head, and ask her if she's really into 50 Cent. Mandy flashes me her White teeth and tells me that she loves urban music. I pay for my blue T-shirt, and we leave the store together.

Mandy asks me out for a quick bite and since I've got some time to kill, why not? It's a Saturday afternoon after all. I ask Mandy what she's up to, and she tells me that she's new in town. She's renting an apartment in Brockton's South Side, and is living on her own for the first time. She used to attend Stonehill College in nearby Easton, but quit halfway through her junior year because her ex-girlfriend, some Puerto Rican broad named Majandra, ended up outing her to her parents after their messy breakup. Mandy's parents, a deeply conservative Irish Catholic couple who moved to New England straight from Northern Ireland, weren't too keen on their only daughter being a dyke. And the fact that she dated a Puerto Rican chick didn't please them either. So they gave her a choice. To straighten out her life in order to get back into their good graces, or they'd disown her. Since she was now living solo, I guess Mandy chose the latter option rather than the former. I looked at her, a bit surprised. I didn't know this chick from Adam but she was more gutsy than she looked, if her story was true, that is. Lesbians lie on dates, just like everybody else. Anyone who disagrees is either a bold-faced liar or their head is in the clouds.

I told Mandy a bit about myself as we ate some salad and berries. I was a graduate of Brockton Community High School in her second year at UMass-Boston, taking up Criminal Justice. Why? Simply because it's the family business. That and the military. My grandfather, Alphonse Wilson was one of the original Tuskegee Airmen. The legendary Black pilots of World War Two. My father Max Wilson works for the Massachusetts State Police. My mother Isabel is a Boston metropolitan policewoman. My brother Jensen was at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Yeah, we were all cops and soldiers in the family. Mandy listened to me as I talked, seemingly hanging onto my every word. I could tell she wanted me. So when she asked me over her apartment for a drink, I shrugged and grinned.

Half an hour later, Mandy and I were getting down and dirty in her South Side apartment. We came in, she gave me a brief tour of the one-bedroom, one-living room slash kitchen and one-bathroom affair, then we just started kissing and undressing each other. Soon I had Mandy naked on her king-sized bed. I looked at her. Mandy's body was kind of plump but my pussy was twitching since I was mad horny, so I didn't care. I kissed Mandy's soft lips, and cupped her large breasts in my hands. She giggled, and told me she'd never been with a Black woman before. I smiled. No kidding. I've met lots of White lesbians with a terminal case of jungle fever. I caressed Mandy's soft body, and made my way toward her pelvic area. I breathed in the scent of her womanhood. This chick flaunted her own aroma, unlike most chicks I knew, who used vaginal deodorant. Well, I can see someone's bold.

I parted Mandy's creamy, plump thighs and began munching on her box. Mandy squealed in delight as I licked her clit and teased her pussy with my fingers. She urged me to take her, hard and fast. Looking me right in the eyes, Mandy told me to make her my bitch. Grinning, I did just that. I've slept with all kinds of women. Black women. Asian women. Hispanic women. Middle-Eastern women. Even White women. Nine out of ten times, if some woman wants me to play the role of a loud and domineering Black woman, it's a White woman. Could someone please explain that one to me? Oh, well. I haven't gone buck-wild with a woman since my last relationship ended, so why not?

And that's how it all began. Mandy was one crazy White chick. Per her requests, I made her get on all fours, naked as a jay bird. I spread her plump White ass cheeks, fingered her asshole and spanked her big ass while pulling her blonde hair. She whimpered, and begged me for more. I took out my long Black leather belt and used it to whip her fat ass. I whipped her ass, her back and even her big floppy tits. I smacked her face, and called her a useless White bitch. I called her a White trash whore and a useless White cunt. All the while, she simply nodded her head and begged me for more. For the grand finale, I took my trusty strap-on dildo out of my purse and strapped it on. Mandy 's eyes gleamed with lusty delight when she saw it. A lot of lesbians complain how there's never a strap-on around when they need one. That's why mine never leaves me.

I took Mandy quite forcefully. Just positioned myself behind her and shoved my dildo into her pussy while gripping her hips to hold her into place. Mandy went wild as I slammed my dildo into her, fucking her roughly like she was a cheap prostitute. She screamed louder than any woman I'd ever been, urging me to tear up her pussy. Man, White folks are so crazy, especially White women! I grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and yanked her head while fucking her. I even smacked her big White ass, delighting as I watched it jiggle. I felt like a porn star, or a macho rapper in an audition video. As for Mandy, she played the part of the submissive White slut to the extreme. She was like putty in my hands. I tapped that ass and waxed it, as they say in my part of town. Afterwards, I even took a cigar which Mandy offered me. Am I cool or what?

Half an hour later, I took a shower and left Mandy's apartment. Wearing nothing under a bathrobe, she asked me when she might see me again. I shrugged. What was this bitch talking about? I told her I really wasn't looking for a relationship right now. I had enough of the classic dyke drama, thank you very much. Right now, I was focused on schoolwork and making some money. Mandy did have a sweet ass and she was a fun ride. So I told her that, if she wanted some fun, she could always try to email me or something. I'd come over and tap that ass, that is if I didn't have anything better to do. Amazingly, Mandy seemed satisfied with that answer. She gave me her cell number, then blew me a kiss goodbye. Walking out of the building, I shook my head. Looks I found myself a new bitch. And I wasn't even looking. I'm the coolest lesbian pimp in Brockton. Odds are, I probably already had your woman and you didn't even know. It's fun being me!

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