Straight A's for BBC

I started being sexually active, as the saying goes, my freshman year in college. Here's another saying for you: If I knew then what I knew now...

I was at a dinky little community college. I had no real interest in college, having been in full-blown rebel mode for a couple of years. However, up until then I had held on to some misplaced sense of virtue about my sexuality and kept my virginity. That was until one night a bong and a lot of beer changed everything. At least within that group, I became a pretty well-known 'good-time girl'. Really, I was having a great time with it all. It was so new and exciting, and it certainly didn't take a lot to make me cum.

There were, however, plenty of frustrations. My demeanor didn't really sit well with the average rebel guy. You know the type: Ugly clothes, questionable hygiene, bad hair, loud and obnoxious music, bad art, and above all, an absolute certainty that no one understood the universe as well as they did. These are not guys that are ready to listen to a girl's point of view about the world. In bed, this often led to abject disaster. Especially once I became more experienced, I became a major blow to their egos. Now don't get me wrong, it's not like I was making huge demands from them or pointing out their inadequacies. I've got a *whole* lot of subbie in me, and was doing all I could to please. But these guys thrive on 'impressionable' young girls, which I no longer was.

Really, though, it was like an amicable divorce. Neither of us was getting what we wanted anymore, so with a wistful 'last kiss' (and yes, that's a euphemism) we went our own ways, each of us off on our search for the perfect lay.

So I started working my way through the student body, in no particular order. The rich, beautiful boys were kind of interesting. Beyond the obvious advantage of their looks, they tended to be a lot more open and experienced. It wasn't hard to get these boys. As Pretty In Pink and Juno so correctly pointed out, girls like me have always been a fascination for boys like that. Sure, they often think of it as 'slumming' to be with me, but honestly I preferred that to the other kind, where they placed me on some ridiculous pedestal as the epitome of coolness. Okay, okay, now that I have more experience, I know that a big part of me *liked* the degrading nature of being some rich boy's back-street girl. I *told* you I was subbie.

The geeks were interesting in a different way. Bless their hearts, nobody tries harder than a geek. But I was beyond the point where an inexperienced lover could do much for me. Some thoughts flitted through my mind about the untapped potential that these boys represented, but trying to figure out how to really take advantage of the situation made my head hurt, and I knew that without a much stronger dominant side, I was probably bound to fail.

The rest of the student body offered it's own pleasures and disappointments, with nothing really piquing my interest. I finally turned my attention to the last of the well-defined groups, the jocks. I'm not really sure why I avoided them for so long. Maybe it's partially because they seemed to be the furthest from my wanna-be rebel persona, maybe it's because it seemed like a really insular community, and maybe because, at a community college, can you really call them jocks? Regardless, it was time.

This was, however, a lot more challenging. Unlike with the rich boys, girls like me are *not* the subject of their fantasies. Their focus is very simple: The cheerleader. Regardless, is ever really *that* hard for a girl to get laid? Now we were starting to get somewhere. These boys were strong, confident, and with wonderful bodies to play with. They usually had a fair amount of experience, and while they might have lacked creativity, they were very eager to show off how amazing their bodies were by being *very* energetic. They were even quite willing to learn a thing or two.

As the school year was coming to a close, I could see that I was going to have a problem. My adventures were sporadic at best. I certainly wasn't getting invited to the 'right' parties, so the opportunities to get close to these boys were few. And once I did, I was at best a curiosity to them. It wouldn't take too long before I lost their interest. The best athletes couldn't be bothered with me at all, they had all the pussy they could handle. So that summer began my transformation. I threw away my rebel clothes, attitude, etc... bought a new wardrobe, and spent the summer learning... dance. By the time the fall came around, I intended to be ready for cheerleader tryouts, a new social group, and a series of new conquests.

It worked about as well as I could have expected. Thankfully I had the looks and the skills to pull it off, and while the other girls were not so sure about me, the boys were only too happy to include me in their plans, and really, that's all I cared about. Maybe in high school I would have had to worry more about the other girls, but college was too open an atmosphere for them to be able to cause too much trouble.

It was an incredible fall, and I spent a delirious amount of time either on my back on or my knees, in a hotel room or a dorm room, sucking and fucking every jock cock that that came near me. I even enjoyed being on the cheerleader squad. I mean, it was a lot of fun cheering on these boys that had made *me* feel so good. I wanted them to succeed, especially if I got to be part of the celebration.

There was one black athlete at our school, and we pretty much did a little dance around each other. Oh, I'm pretty sure (once I showed up in my new clothes) that he would have taken me anytime I had flashed my ass at him, but some part of my upbringing was holding me back. He obviously knew what was going on, and it only turned him on all the more. He became the full-fledged hunter, with me as his prey. He knew my reputation just like everyone else did, so he held nothing back. His advances were unbelievably graphic. Above all, he talked about the BBC: big, black cock. That was I really needed: To try black cock, that once I did, nothing would ever be the same. By now, I had read a medical study that said that, on average, the penis on an African American male was about 1/2" bigger than on a Caucasian male. This was inevitably what I countered with, but he would have none of it, "Uh-uh... that's bullshit. This black man has a nasty black cock that will stretch you out so far you will *never* be the same."

There was no way I was going to be able to deny him for too long, I was just too horny and I felt too bad each time I turned him down. Not to mention the fact that his pursuit of me was turning me on like never before. The moment of truth happened in a hotel room at some away game. A group of us were sitting in the room, came up to me, and touched me for the first time. He took my hand, and touched my face. The touch in and of itself was pretty much enough. But then I looked down and saw my hand in his, and saw the contrast of our two skins. My breath caught as the sight filled me with lust. I knew I was sitting across from a mirror, but I was afraid to look. When I finally did, and saw his hand cupping my face... that dark hand seeming to claim my white skin, I was completely lost. I was soon on my back, on the bed, passionately kissing this boy in a room full of people, not caring one bit.

I know that somehow we got into a room by ourselves, but I have no idea how. And while the average states that a black man doesn't have a significantly bigger dick, this boy was not average. That night, I had by far the most exciting night of my life. He took great pleasure in breaking down my preconceptions, in surprising me and 'schooling' me about sex with a black man. He wanted me completely submissive and adoring of him and his prowess, and I was only too happy to oblige. His attitude, his confidence, the complete pleasure he was taking in my transformation to a BBC worshipper was such a turn-on to me that it only made me want him more.

After that night, I was completely hooked. I became his little plaything for a while, and I was happier than I thought I could be. But then the inevitable happened, and his interest started to wane. I'm not the jealous type, and I had no problem with him sleeping with other girls, but he would come back to me less and less often. Once again, I was facing a road block. I was a BBC whore, but with no BBC around.

The answer came to me not too long after. Our basketball team played a tournament hosted by the state college. Of course the state college team didn't bother to *play* in this tournament, they were way above that level, but I never really knew what that meant until I saw them getting ready for a practice. They were all standing around in the hall, waiting for some tournament game to leave their gym. First of all, these boys... these *men* were *all* black, and they were an average of 6 inches taller than the boys at my school, and their bodies were a chiseled perfection that I had never seen before. Remember, my *only* interest in athletes to that point had been in the boys at my school, and that was just because I was fucking them. I'm sure I had seen bodies like this in a magazine before, or on the internet, but it didn't prepare me for what they were like in person.

I have no idea how I did it, and I have no idea what I said, but I found myself having spoken to one of them, and I had directions to a party that night on campus.

Of course it took forever for me to figure out what to wear. However, I knew exactly what I wanted that night, so my outfit had 'Fuck me' written all over it. I dressed as slutty as I dared: heels, short skirt, the works. My long hair flowed around my head in what I hoped was the kind of blonde ideal that seemed to appeal to all jocks. My top was just a skimpy halter that showed off my ample breasts covered by a light mesh t-shirt that covered nothing.

Once I got to the party, I had a moment of pure terror as I realized that I didn't remember *which* man I had talked to. But I was saved as *he* noticed *me*, and pulled me into the group he was hanging with, mostly his teammates and their girls for the evening.

"Well... if it isn't the little cheerleader!" They were merciless in their teasing, but it didn't bother me at all. I was locked on this man, was giving just about all of my attention to him. I would answer a question if asked, but that was about all. I was watching him closely, and I pushed myself on him as hard as he seemed to be comfortable with, and that meant I was almost dry humping him.

Finally, one of the other men asked, "Damn, girl.... you really want it, don't you?"

I turned to look my chosen man and simply and clearly said, "Yes, I really do."

This caused the whole group to erupt in laughter, except for me and him, we were just looking at each other. Finally, he smiled wryly, easily gathered me up in his arms (my God... feeling the ease with which he could hold me was such a turn on), and walked toward the stairs, "Who am I to disappoint the lady?"

He clinically took me apart that night. He knew I was already converted to the church of the BBC, he simply wanted to show me what an impressive specimen he was. He made me beg, he made me scream, he made me moan in abject ecstasy, and he made me profess my utter devotion to BBC, all without him saying a word.

I made as many trips as I could onto campus, but it was an incredible drain. The campus was way across town, so it was hard for me to compete with the girls that were right there. These men often wanted to fuck on a whim, and I wasn't close by to satisfy their need. Still, what they gave me was truly incredible, and it made every sacrifice worthwhile.

Once again though, I knew I was going to have to make a change. The obvious choice was to transfer to the state college, but I knew that wasn't really an option. Everyone knew that the state college was no better academically than my community college, but the tuition was *way* higher. My father could afford it, but he wasn't going to let me transfer there without a good reason. The only solution I could see is that I would have to choose yet *another* college, one that was significantly better academically, but which still boasted top-level athletics. I finally found the perfect one, and Daddy was thrilled at the prospect of me going there. He had been ecstatic when I transformed into a cheerleader, and was busting a nut at the thought of me being a top-level student. Of course, he had no idea what had brought about these changes. There was, however, one problem. I didn't have the grades. I figured out that if I got perfect grades the following semester, then I might be able to squeak in.

Nonetheless, I was determined. This led to some semi-comical situations. I *always* had books or study notes with me, and I took every advantage to get some extra studying in. I would study in the hall outside some guy's door as I waited for him, I would study while waiting in between sessions, perhaps with my hand idly stroking his cock. I brought along a little book light so I could study after some guy had fallen asleep, his arm draped across my naked body. One man had fun fucking me *while* I was studying, claiming that he was preparing me for being able to withstand distraction during a test. I'm not sure these sessions were particularly useful, but they sure were a lot of fun. I was studying French at the time, and he had me learn every dirty French word or expression I could find, and use them when I was with him, all in the name of education, of course.

In the end, it worked. I'm now a cheerleader/student at the premier college for athletics and academics. It does give me no end of pleasure to think that my father is paying a ransom for his daughter to get fucked on a regular basis by big, black, athletic cocks. Of course, I *am* getting a wonderful education. I kinda caught that bug too. However, for now, I have to go, there's a blue chip recruit coming in, and I'm part of the 'welcoming committee'. The rumor is, he's got the biggest dick of the whole recruiting class.