Invasion of the Ghetto Sluts

"Much bigger." Monique chimed in.

"Most black women have hotter, rounder asses than white women." Sydni said.

"Much hotter. Much rounder." Monique said.

"Black women have this sexy, dark skin. Not pale, nasty, disgusting white skin like your white girls have." Sydni said.

"Nasty." Monique added.

"Black women have rhythm. We can dance. We can shake our asses. We can shake our bodies. Not shake like spazzes like white women do." Sydni said.

"Idiots." Monique added.

"Everything about black women exudes sex. The way we look. The clothes we wear. The music we listen to. The cars we drive. It's all sex." Sydni said.

"I think you guys are the racist ones. You seemed to not respect my race." I said.

"Just the white women. We respect white men. Look, just think about it. The hottest women, the ones with the hottest bodies, they are all black." Sydni said.

"I've seen plenty of hot white women." I said.

"Sure, there are some. But the hottest ones are black. You have to admit that?" Sydni said.

"I will not. There are some black women that are very sexy, but not all of them." I said.

"Most of them." Monique said.

"The biggest difference between black and white women: black women don't play games. White women screw around. Not black women. Black women go after the men they want. Black women don't fuck around. They just fuck. We don't make love like white women do. We fuck." Sydni said.

"Hard." Monique added.

"You know that saying once you go black, you never go back?" Sydni asked. I nodded. "That doesn't just apply to white women with black men. It works the other way too. Once a white man fucks a black woman and experiences the rigors of black sex, he can't possibly go back." There was a long silence.

"Huh." I said, not finding any other words to say. It couldn't possibly be true what they said. It was impossible to say that all black women were hotter, sexier, and better fucks than their white counterparts. I am sure there were some that were better. I am sure that there were some black women who had bigger tits, better asses, hotter faces and fucked harder than some white women. And there were some that were probably so good, you wouldn't go back.

I was shaken out of my thoughts when I realized where we were. We were on the bad side of town. Near the ghetto.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Well, we want to show you how black women are better. All women like a man in a nice car. But white women hide it. Not us. Not black women. Us black women will let you know exactly what this car does to us." Sydni said.

As I drove through the ghetto, in this fancy Aston Martin, I realized Sydni had a point. When we passed black women or a group of black women on the street, or in another car, every single one of them stared at this car. Each one of them practically eye-fucked it, and me. They were women like Sydni and Monique, young, hot ghetto girls, and they all made it clear they liked what they were seeing. I saw them turn their heads, I saw them lick their lips. And I swear when I looked close, I could see hard nipples.

"Maybe you have a point." I muttered, causing both girls to smile. So apparently, I was driving a car that could drive black women wild.

We made our way through this part of town, until they had me pull into a parking lot. I wasn't sure where we were going. The girls didn't say anything until I hit the button on my keys to lock the door. As the beep echoed between the buildings, Sydni and Monique turned to me.

"Oh no no no no no." Sydni said.

"What?" I asked.

"You think that just cause you're in a black neighborhood you have to lock the doors?" Sydni asked in disbelief.

"I would lock it up wherever I went." I said.

"Leave it open. Leave it unlocked." Sydni commanded.

"No." I replied. "I am not gonna leave my sports car unlocked."

"Trust me, with a car like that, nothing bad will happen. Just leave it unlocked. If something bad happens, I'll buy you a new one. Okay?" Sydni asked. With a worried expression on my face, I unlocked the car, and followed the girls away.

They led me to a boutique, not the classiest place in the world, but for this neighborhood, it was high end. It was very girly on the inside, filled with all sorts of girl clothes. Like I said, it wasn't the classiest place, but the clothes there had that trashy charm these girls reveled in. All the workers there were black women, and they greeted Sydni and Monique like old friends. And as the girls introduced me to the workers, I felt like a piece of meat as they eyed me up and down. I nervously watched them whisper and giggle to each other. Finally, they parted and I followed the girls around like a little boy following his mother.

"It's time to teach you what black style it is all about." Sydni said, grabbing clothes off the rack. "White style is about looking cute and smart and professional. Black style is much different. Black style is about tight clothes, showing off our bodies. Black style is about tiny underwear. Black style is about looking hot. Black style is about getting men."

"Okay." I said, not knowing what to say. Within moments, both of the girls had a pile of clothes in hand.

"You just sit here and wait. We're looking for a man's opinion on this shit." Sydni said, as both of them marched to the changing rooms. I awkwardly sat there, waiting to see these two black neighbors that I didn't really like in various slutty outfits. And they did not disappoint.

As some R&B played over the speakers, the girls emerged, one at a time, in various outfits. They started off looking good and mostly covered, wearing tight jeans, tight blouses, and high heels. I had to admit, they looked good, and with their bodies, it would be hard not to look good in whatever they wore. But as this went on, the outfits got skimpier. They progressed to tight shorts, showing off their firm legs and highlighting their asses. They progressed to low-cut tops, allowing their jiggling black breasts to pour out of them. Monique wore an indecently see through dress, providing a hint of a view of her nipples to me. I had to admit, these girls knew how to strut their stuff, knowing how to make their boobs bounce and asses jiggle. I gave them the okay on each of their outfits, getting more and more uncomfortable.

I was stunned when they began to strut out in underwear. I was amazed at how brazen they were being, marching out in the middle of a store in skimpy underwear. And it was skimpy. I don't know if these girls knew that panties existed that weren't thongs, because that was all they wore. And they wore jiggly bras that caused their breasts to bounce in just the right way. They were in all different colors and styles, but they were all sexy. They would pepper me with comments and questions while modeling for me.

"How does my butt look?"

"Can you see my nipples?"

"Does this color look good on me?"

"How do they jiggle in this?"

"Do they look big in this?"

"Can you see my asshole in this? You can't? Dammit."

Finally, I had had enough. I was getting uncomfortable with these two black women parading their bodies around me. I think they knew the effect they were having on me. I had an uncomfortable erection, which I tried to hide. I justified it to myself. They were two sexy creatures, and any man would react the same way. As Monique marched out in front of me, in a stringy thong and bra combo, I finally had to speak up.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. Monique walked over and stood in front of me.

" Because it's so much fun to drive you crazy." Monique said with a laugh. Mercifully, they returned to their normal outfits with piles of clothes in hand that they intended to buy. I watched as they paid, and I was forced to do most of the heavy lifting as I took the clothes back to the car. Luckily it was still there, having not been stolen. I put the clothes into the back seat, and as I opened the driver's door, I realized my car had not gone untampered.

"What the fuck!?" I said, looking at the seat. The girls matched my stare.

"What?" Sydni asked, confused at my horror.

"There's... thongs on the driver's seat!" I said in shock.

"So?" Monique said.

"Is that a normal thing?" I asked, in disbelief about how calm these tow were.

"What did we tell you? Black women are very direct." Sydni said, sifting through the underwear. She flipped over the pile and started from the beginning. This pile started with a phone number on a post-it. Then another one. Then, a full coverage panty with a number scrawled on it entered the pile. The panties got skimpier and skimpier, becoming thongs and g-strings. And not only did they get skimpier, the crotches got wetter. I was horrified. I looked around and saw a few black women, in bunches, just watching me, licking their lips.

"Just throw those things away and lets ago." I said, horrified.

"What a waste that would be." Sydni said, carrying the pile of skimpy underwear as she walked to the passenger seat. "Let's just hold onto these for awhile. Maybe you'll reconsider." she added, tossing the panties into the glove compartment. Well, I guess I'll never feel clean using that glove compartment again.

I think the girls enjoyed watching me squirm, as I was uncomfortable for the entire drive. That feeling increased when the scent of wet pussy hit my nose. It wasn't a bad smell. I didn't know how to describe it. All I know was that it caused shivers to run down my spine and goose bumps to arise all over my skin. I didn't know what the source of the scent was. Was it from the piles of panties in the glove compartment that were soaked in the juices from black women, or was it from the two women in the car with me?

Luckily, the drive home did not take long. I carried their bags inside and set them down, and I was just about to leave when Monique stopped me. She held out something to me. I took it and looked at it.

"An IPod?" I said. "I already have one."

"Yeah, but you filled it with that weak ass white shit. I put all the best rap on this." Monique said. I scanned through it quickly. I knew a bit about rap, but I didn't recognize any of the artists. But one thing I did notice: all of the artists listed were female.

"I don't know any of these rappers. I didn't know there were this many female rappers." I told her.

"Shit, black girls are the best rappers. You want to know the best thing about black girl rappers?" Monique asked. I nodded, and she stepped close. "This shit is the perfect shit to jack-off to."

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously.

"You heard me. Just try it. It'll blow your mind." Monique said, stepping back. I hastily made my way home, Monique giggling from behind me.

**********

With rubber gloves on my hands, I carried a handful of black women's panties. I made sure no one was watching. I would have just left them in the car, but I was afraid my car would smell like pussy if I did. So here I was, carrying a pile of thongs and other panties to the garbage. The scent was strong, but I kept going. Once I got within a few feet of the garbage can, I heard a noise from behind me. A car, pulling into the driveway. Shit! Emma was home! Thinking fast, I tossed the panties into an empty box, knowing Emma would see the panties if I had to lift the lid and throw them in the garbage. I pulled off the gloves, tossed them in the box, and kicked the box into a pile just as Emma emerged.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, kissing me, not noticing anything amiss. Not wanting her to notice anything, I led her into the house, quickly forgetting about the box of black women's thongs.

**********

Emma was gone for the day, and I was taking care of things around the house. Boring cleaning stuff. I had my iPod in my pocket, with the music blasting through my head phones, but it was one of those days where none of the songs were sounding interesting. It felt like I had heard them all a thousand times before, which I had. The other iPod I had was calling to me. It was a newer iPod, better than the older one I had. And it was full of music I had never heard before. I put my iPod onto my bedside table, went to my sock drawer, and grabbed the iPod Monique had given me. I figured it would be a chance to expand my musical palate. What was the worst that could happen?

A blast of sound hit my ears, forcing me to quickly turn the volume down. Once my ears adjusted, I could feel the heavy beats entering my ears. The rhythms resonated deeply. It did not take long for the vocals to hit my ears. A voice emerged, a smooth, sexy voice of a black woman, and she began to say the nastiest things. It became clear quickly that this woman was rapping about sex. About fucking. I skipped ahead to the next track, but found more of the same.

I skimmed through the tracks, and it didn't let up. Sure, there were different female rappers, with different voices and styles. Some voices were smooth, some brash, some loud, some bratty, but they all had one thing in common: All the songs were about sex. About having sex, or how good they were at sex, about them getting ready to go out and find a man for sex, or about how hot they were, or about how much better they were than some other girl. I finally just settled on a track and decided to give the music a chance while I did my chores.

But then a funny thing happened. I started to find an appreciation for what I was hearing. It was a bit outside my comfort zone, but it had good flow. Good rhythm. I could see why it would be popular. I found my head bopping unconsciously. But as I moved around, I realized that was not the only part of my body to react.

I was rock hard. How did this happen? Listening to this black woman rap gave me a throbbing, painful erection. What could have caused this? Monique did say this music was perfect for jacking off to. But why? Was it that the deep rhythms of the music that seemed reminiscent of the rhythm of sex, the perfect rhythm of two people bouncing and pleasuring each other? Was it the outright confidence and near arrogance of these black women who proclaimed they were the best at sex? Was it their sexy voices, voices that reminded you of the voice of a nasty slut in your ear as she fucked you? That must be it. These songs radiated sex. It was natural to have this reaction. But it would probably be best if I sat down for a bit.

I never heard of any of these rappers, so I decided to look them up online. One by one, I found pictures of each of these female black rappers. I saw women of all different types. Tall, short, thin, and not as thin, some dressed well, some dressed trashy, some with straight hair, some with big, curly hairstyles, some with lots of jewelry, some with little, some heavily made-up, some not. All these women were distinct, yet they had one thing in common: they were all sexy. They all had that look that told you they were nasty. And none of them had much shame, as they clearly didn't mind being photographed in very little clothing. Seeing all that black flesh exposed was a jarring experience. I don't think I had ever seen a black woman naked. I rarely ever look at porn, especially at black porn. My wife kept me more than satisfied. So seeing this much smooth, soft black skin was a new experience. And so seeing this much bare black flesh, and listening to the rhythm of this hard black female rap, and hearing these confident, arrogant black women rap about sex, well, it did little to deflate my erection. Each beat caused my cock to throb. Each glimpse of black flesh made my cock drip pre-cum. I had never fantasized about black women, but they were at the forefront of my mind at the moment. I didn't know what it was. Was it their blatant sexuality? Their brash arrogance? Their admittedly sexy black flesh? I couldn't be sure, but it was definitely affecting me. I knew I wouldn't be able to continue my chores in the condition I was in.

**********

I laid naked on my bed, my lubed up 10-inch cock in both of my hands as I furiously stroked it, imagining a pair of big bare black tits bouncing in front of me. My eyes were closed in fantasy, and loud rap music blaring in my ears, the arrogant voice of a black women bouncing in my head. All of this stimuli combined to give me a throbbing erection. My cock was literally tingling, on the edge of cumming. I kept myself on edge, extending my pleasure. I was coated in sweat from this vigorous jack-off session.

I cupped my balls as I stroked with the other hand. While I enjoyed sex as much as other people, I always felt like it was never the central focus of my life like it was for other people. I had a healthy sex life, but I was never the type of guy to go bar-hopping for pussy. I wondered if I was weird for not being as sexually driven as other guys. But right here, right now, on this bed, I was more sexually charged than I had ever been. And it was with black women on the brain. I didn't let myself think about it too much. I was too lost in the pleasure. I was lost in fantasies of black women. And it was when I remembered that I had two sexy black women next door, I felt my balls clench up.

"FUCK!" I roared as I began to spurt. As I furiously stroked myself, a geyser of cum erupted from my cock. It fell onto my torso and chest as more cum exploded from me. Again and again and again and again. I had never shot this much. I was nearly in tears it felt so good. After minutes of pleasure, after what felt like an eternity of cumming, my arms fell to my sides. I opened my eyes and lifted my head. I looked down at myself, and saw that my chest and stomach was covered in my own cum. Now that my head was clear, the shame set in. What had I done? I had furiously jacked off thinking about black women. I had betrayed my wife by fantasizing about other women. I tossed the iPod away, took a shower, washed the sheets, and aired out the room.

I made sure to never indulge myself in this line of fantasies again. I would pack the iPod away, and never get involved in this stuff again. And when Emma came home, I made sure to kiss her extra hard.

**********

I quickly found that my shameful fantasies of black women were hard to suppress when living next to two voluptuous black women.

The heat was still overwhelming. It was the middle of the afternoon, and I stepped out to grab the mail. And as I did, I heard splashing water from next door, so I turned to look.

Monique and Sydni were washing their new Escalade. They were wearing matching clothes, thin white tank tops and cut-off shorts that just barely covered their large asses. They had buckets full of sudsy water. Monique was leaning over the hood, scrubbing the windshield with a sponge while Sydni was spraying the car with a hose. Both had their backs to me, and I was hoping to retrieve the mail and avoid their attention. But the mailbox was working against me, squeaking loudly as I opened it. Both girls turned to look, and once they saw it was me, they turned to face me.

They were both soaked with water, which made their smooth black skin shiny as well as plastering their clothes to their bodies. Their white tank tops became practically see-through. Their giant black tits were visible under their tops, but unfortunately, the fabric was scrunched in such a way that I was unable to get a good look at their nipples. I was only able to see a hint of them. But the shape and firmness of their giant racks were evident. Their midriffs were bared, and they were showing off their smooth, sexy dark flesh.

They looked like they were on the set of a black porno. A black woman porn, where they probably team up and double team some white guy. That's what happens in porno starring black women, right?

"Hey Sean." they said in unison with smiles on their faces. I nodded and quickly made my way inside, shutting the door behind me, hoping to avoid having to talk them when they were so exposed. When they were showing off so much of their smooth black flesh. Like their huge black breasts. Their firm black legs. Their full, tight asses. And if I got close, I bet they would make sure to tighten their shirts to make sure I saw their nipples. Their no doubt hard nipples, sticking out from their perfect black breasts. God, they were so hot!