Post Coital Suggestion Ch. 01

I leaned closer as he got stiffer, his erection pointing at the ceiling. I thought that he might want me to suck him to an orgasm, but that wasn't it at all. He really did just want me to get him ready to go inside me. As soon as he was hard enough, he opened his eyes and looked down. "Okay, Beck, climb aboard."

He drew his legs together and patted the couch on either side of them, indicating that I should straddle him. I got myself off the floor and with mixed reluctance and anticipation, I put a knee on either side of Kris' thighs. I put my hands on the back of the couch and waited for him to lift his erection into position, then started to lower myself. I felt the heat of his glans against my tender labia, and gasped.

"Lower, Becky. Lower." I did as I was told. I felt him enter me for the second time in 24 hours. I wasn't as tight, but I was so sensitive from the night's activities it felt even more intense. I was so wet that he slid smoothly into me until I had my bottom resting on his legs. "Good. Good. Now, you like that?" I didn't try to hide my pleasure, nodding vigorously. "Whatta ya like, Becky."

"I like... I like feeling you.. inside me..."

He laughed. "You make it sound like you stuffed my whole body in you like some kind of man-shaped dildo. It's not ME inside you. What is it?"

"Your..." My voice got small. "Your penis."

"Both T and Kris erupted with loud laughted. "My what? Bitch, niggas don't got 'penises,' we got cocks! SHIT!" he laughed hard, and I could feel his laughter, moving him inside me, which felt awfully good. "Now, tell me what you got up in you?"

"Your.. your.. your cock." I said, quietly.

"That's right, and where is it?"

"Inside me."

"Inside you where?"

"My vagina?"

I was the recipient of another gale of laughter. "And sluts don't got 'vaginas' neither. They got pussies, or cunts, or fuckholes, or whatever, but shit, not 'vaginas'! Where the fuck do I got my cock?"

I nearly choked. "In my... my pussy."

"That's right, now, you like it, so tell me you like it. Say it." He said this, his long-fingered hands holding my buttocks, his hips grinding in tiny circles, moving his stiff, hot cock slightly inside me.

"I like, um. I like having your big cock up in my pussy," I finally said.

He didn't look pleased, but he didn't seem to want to play this game any more. His fingers dug into my cheeks, and he lifted me up until only the end of his, his cock, was in my pussy. "Okay, so put it back in. Ride me, bitch. Go on, fuck yourself on that fat, black cock. Go on, get to work." He let me go, and I practically fell down, impaling myself suddenly on his thick, hard cock. The end of it slammed against my cervix, making me squeal, then I raised myself up and sat down hard again.

"Shit, bro, she takin' that whole thing like a fuckin' pro," commented T from behind me.

"Yeah, well, you and me, we ain't fucked too many white bitches got two kids. I think it helps. We gotta remember that. From now on, we just fuck white bitches with kids!" They both laughed as I pulled myself up and let myself fall again and again and again. My buttocks slapped loudly against his legs as I filled my pussy (I still have trouble typing that) with his hardness. I rode him harder and harder, faster and faster, with increasing desperation. If I could have pushed his whole body up into my aching hole, I would have.

Kris moved his hands from my buttocks to my tits, squeezing and tweaking. it slowed me for a minute, but soon I was back to a full gallop, fucking that huge cock with my increasingly sloppy cunt. I started to shake and moan, losing control. "Dat's it, bitch, cum on dat nigga cock, cum on, bitch, cum hard!" T urged me on because Kris was busy sucking the nipples right off my breasts.

And cum I did. When I lost it, I sat down hard, just holding Kris' cock deep inside while my pussy spasmed and squeezed. He flexed it a few times, way up in there, keeping my orgasm going longer than I thought I could stand. When it all started to ebb, he just lifted me up by my cheeks, and started fucking up into me so fast I couldn't breathe. I really did almost pass out this time. I whimpered and cried, and he just chuckled, slapping up into my pussy double time, triple time. I collapsed against him, unable to hold myself up, but it didn't stop him.

He kept up the incredibly rapid thrusts, forcing himself balls deep so fast I felt them rise up and bounce off my ass. That is, until he started to cum himself. I guess even a black man can't keep that up forever. He growled like a bear, pulled me down on his cock and held me there while his cock spurted lava-hot cum up into my belly. I shuddered and came again. Not the shattering kind, but the deeply satisfying kind, knowing that he was filling me once more with his thick, sticky jizz.

I sat there, leaning against him, heaving for breath, when I felt T's huge hands at my waist, pulling me up. He was so strong that he lifted me off Kris and set me on all fours at the other end of the sofa, as though I were an inflatable doll. I remained the way he set me while he jerked his jeans to his knees and crashed onto the couch, anxious to replace his friend in my dripping pussy.I looked back, panting, and watched while he positioned himself behind me and pushed forward.

I had forgotten how thick he was, but I was given a rude reminder when he took one vicious thrust to embed himself balls deep in my cum-slicked cunt. I screamed, part pain, part pleasure, not sure if he'd torn something inside me. "Oh, fuck, this bitch is tight." He withdrew and slammed himself home again, laughing. "Girl, you got no IDEA how glad I am your man left you behind." Hooking his fingers in the crook of my hips, he pulled me back, grinding inside me.

Then, without warning, he started to slam himself in and out of my pussy like a fucking jack-hammer. I could feel my eyes fly wide open, my breath catch in my throat. I started to cum again, and couldn't contain myself. "Oh, GOD!" I screamed. "Oh god, I"m cumming.. too hard.. too much.. Oh.. God, T. Please.. no more.. no more.. I'll go crazy.. Please.. no... OHHHHH!" Screaming, my head collapsed to the cushion on the sofa, my cheek against the supple leather while T used my pussy to pleasure himself.

When at last he reached his own climax, I had been through a handful of my own, barely catching a breath between one orgasm and another. T lived up to everything Kris had said about him, gushing like a firehose into my overused pussy, rocking his hips just enough to keep his orgasm going, then pulling out suddenly and falling to the deeply carpeted floor. It sounded like a pallet of bricks falling off a truck when he hit the floor. My bric-a-brac shelf rattled.

While T was causing a small earthquake in my house, I was dripping cum all over the couch. I put a hand under my pussy and dragged myself to the kitchen, where I grabbed a handful of paper towels to clean myself and the cushions. Fortunately, none of it had splattered on the carpet. When I had finished, I lay flat on my back on the floor, my legs spread, until I'd cooled down and had enough strength to fix supper.

That night, Kris and T both took another turn at me. This time, while I was cumming hard on Kris' cock, he started to whisper in my ear. "You're a black cock slut, Becky... A black cock slut. A black cock slut." I was just nodding and agreeing, repeating what he said, my attention not on the words, but on the black cock invading my pussy yet again, sending me into some low orbit around the earth.

And while T was fucking me, Kris kept talking to me. "That's it. Give your pretty pussy to his fat nigga cock. That's what you want, it's all you want. Go on, give it to him, you want him to cum in you. Go on."

The rest of the week went on in much the same way. Both of them fucked me incessantly, in every room of the house, it seemed, in every position imaginable. And it seemed that every time I was cumming on T's cock, Kris was reminding me, "You're a black cock slut now. You need all the black cock you can get. You'll never say no to a black man again." Or, when he wsa fucking me, he'd be asking me questions. "What am I doing, slut?" and I would be required to answer, "You're fucking my sluty white cunt with your big black cock!" or something like that.

When I had gotten used to their cocks in my pussy, they started in on my ass. (Black cock sluts don't have buttocks, either, they have asses.) It took me a day or two, but by the end of the week, I was the stuffing for their oreo cookie, crushed between them as they double teamed both my holes.

I don't think I slept for more than 3 or 4 hours a night during that week, so when Friday came, and they prepared to leave, I was exhausted. I listened to Kris' departing words without question. Most of them I already understood.

"Okay, Becky. Now you know who you are. You're a black cock slut. You always were, but you didn't know it, and now you do. You're never gonna be able to say no to a black man, ever again."

Then he told me something new. "Now listen to this. From now on, when you go out of the house, you're gonna get wet every time you're around a black man. You won't be able to stop yourself. And we can tell, we can smell it when a white bitch gets wet around us, so the men who make you wet, they're gonna know. And if they want you, they're gonna tell you they want to fuck you, and you're gonna fuck 'em, every one of 'em. You can't help yourself."

"But even though we can smell you, can tell you're a slut for black cock, we gotta be careful. If ever the white men knew how much white pussy we gettin', he'd start to killin' us again, so we got a system. When we smell a wet white pussy, we don't just say, 'Get over here, bitch, and lemme fuck you!' We use a code. We say shit like, 'Ma'am, do you need help?' or "Can I give you a hand?', or "Whatcha need?"

"When you hear the code, you let him know you want to fuck him, and you ask him how and where. If he don't like your answer, he might say some shit like, 'What the fuck you talkin' about?' If he does that, watch out. Might mean he's mad, or he might just want you to be more plain. If he says somethin' like that, you just tell him exactly what you want, and ask him how you can get it. Then he'll give you what you need."

"Remember, us niggas, we can smell a black cock slut a mile off, so we all know. Every black man you see, he gonna know. Now, we gotta go, Beck. Hate to leave that sweet pussy, but your man, I figure he'll be back in the next hour or so. You get cleaned up. I know you ain't tellin' him nothin' about us, but you might wanna buy a new bottle of bourbon, or he gonna think you been drinkin' a lot. Now, getcherself dressed."

He gave me a kiss, and then he and T were gone.

And I was a black cock slut. So, they could smell that on me, huh? Well, maybe they wouldn't ask too often. That code sure was smart. I hoped I wouldn't miss it. Didn't want to piss anybody off.

I got dressed and went to the ABC store for more Maker's Mark. Thank goodness the clerk wasn't black, because I just got home before Richard did.

The rest of the story follows. It's amazing how many men have used the code. Sometimes, they say it a little different from what I expect, but I'm getting good at recognizing it. Of course, it's getting hard to explain why I do so much dry cleaning, and why I spend so much time "at the gym." Richard likes that I ask him to fuck my ass a lot now, but that's mostly so he won't notice how stretched out I'm getting. It takes a lot of effort to make my pussy feel tight to him, and to fake every damned orgasm.

Oh, well, at least I know who I am.