Coffee and a Blowjob

Angie is a real woman with a strong desire to submit to a big, black cock. This story contains aspects of her real and fantasy lives...and yes, some of mine as well. Everyone in this story is above the age of consent.

*

For the ninth time in ten days, Angie parked her silver Honda Accord in front of the convenience store, opened the door and swung her nylon-clad legs onto the pavement. Her thighs parted briefly sending cool morning air rushing past the tops of her stockings to swirl teasingly against the gusset of her black panties. Immediately, her pussy began to drool like some Pavlovian science project.

It's convenient and the coffee's decent, she rationalized but knew she was lying to herself. The shop was out of her way, discovered when the road she normally traveled to work was closed for construction one morning. And the coffee was perhaps the worst in the city.

As usual, the odd couple behind the counter was bickering. If nametags were to be believed, the tall, young black man was Blaine, and the attractive, older blonde was Dottie.

"I'm the manager," Blaine told Dottie. "You have to do what I tell you."

"You're a fucking trainee," Dottie snapped back. "The only decision you get to make is whether the toilet paper unrolls over the top or underneath in the rest rooms.

"Watch your language," Blaine cautioned, nodding in the direction of Angie.

"You don't have a fucking clue about women like her," Dottie told Blaine. "That mouse over there has been coming in here for more than a week with a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree wide-on for you and you can't see it."

A flush rushed up Angie's neck and quickly enveloped her face. She couldn't believe she was being talked about like that yet she submitted to her shame rather than battle for her dignity. She dipped her head even lower and felt her pussy-faucet drip faster.

"Her?" asked Blaine. "She's not even my type."

Angie felt the tears welling up in her eyes as the embarrassment mounted. The blonde's words were true, she was constantly thinking about Blaine. Thoughts of his cock haunted her day and night. Now she discovered she had no chance with him.

"Oh yeah?" prodded Dottie. "What's your type?"

"Blondes," said Blaine, reaching out and patting Dottie's firm ass.

"Hands to yourself!" scolded Dottie grabbing his wrists initiating a brief tussle in which he quickly demonstrated physical superiority by forcing her hand against his crotch.

"You're such a cocky prick," Dottie told him with feigned disgust while allowing her palm to linger in contact with his bulge even after Blaine relaxed his grip.

"I thought you liked that about me," Blaine countered.

"I was fucking drunk! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Until you convince yourself, I guess," Blaine replied in a moment of sudden clarity and insight that startled both Dottie and the eavesdropping Angie.

"How do you know she's interested in me?" Blaine asked Dottie giving Angie a renewed hope.

"Haven't you noticed how she drags her finger against your palm when she takes her change each day? She craves the most intimate contact with you yet settles for the tiniest touch. Watch her, she'll do it today even though she just heard me tell you what to look for."

"You serious?" Blaine asked.

"Just watch," Dottie reiterated.

Angie was so humiliated she was struck motionless. Dottie knew the pretty redhead with the silver Honda was listening. Dottie knew Angie was hot for the tall, handsome, young hunk behind the counter. Angie wanted to run from the store and never return but, like Dottie, she knew that wouldn't happen.

Fuck you, you cunt-bitched skank twat, Angie thought haughtily as she approached the counter.I'm important compared to you. What do you do all day besides take quarters for newspapers and talk like a merchant seaman with a three-months-at-sea sized erection cruising Carnival?

Fuck you, you prissy-pussied bitch-cunt who thinks her twat don't smell like an open can of Fancy Feast once a month like the rest of us, Dottie thought irritatedly as the younger redhead approached.

It was like she was floating above herself in some sort of out-of-body experience as Angie watched her pinkie finger trace along the palm of Blaine's hand as she rendered payment. Despite the fact that Dottie had told Blaine what to look for as she checked out, Angie couldn't constrain her desire to touch the gorgeous young black male with an unexplainable ability to ignite her engine. Beet red, she hurried to the door.

Angie could think of little else at work save her trip to the convenience store that morning. One thing in particular ravaged her imagination. Yes, she remembered all the embarrassing things that bitch Dottie had said about her desiring Blaine, all true by the way, but that wasn't it.

What had her sexual nerves on edge and her clitoris throbbing like a hammered thumb was Dottie's statement.I was fucking drunk! she had exclaimed. What did that mean Angie wondered. Try as she might, she could only come up with one logical conclusion.

Dottie was a slut, of that Angie was sure. She'd obviously gotten drunk and had sex with the young black god and that pissed Angie off. It was pretty simple really. Dottie had had something Angie wanted even if she had trouble admitting it to herself.

Dottie was easily in her forties. Yet she'd had sex with a black man less than half her age. Oh god how Angie wanted to stand behind that counter with Blaine, have him touch her ass, have him force her hand against his crotch.

Angie rushed home from work leaving on time for once. She knew she'd have little peace until she took care of the constant demands emanating from her panties. So great was her need she'd almost gone to the ladies room several times during the day to seek relief. Each time she was interrupted and her desire built and built until she could stand it no longer.

She cursed at her computer that seemed to take forever to boot up. Then her favorite site took forever and a day to launch. Her fingers were already busy inside her panties when they finally loaded, all those incredible pictures of beautiful black cocks.

There was a time when Angie couldn't care less about photos of men's dicks. She liked men; that wasn't the issue. Sometimes it seemed as if she liked them too much. Like her new archenemy Dottie, she wasn't always in control of herself sexually, especially when a man really took control, demanded things of her.

That was before she'd discovered black men and their big black cocks. There was just something different about their bodies, their skin that excited her. And their cocks! Those were magnificent!!!!!!! She couldn't look at enough of them.

She began searching for the picture she'd go over the edge with, the photo she'd stare at and imagine the cock in it was hers to enjoy as she brought herself to climax. She'd passed by several candidates when she came to the one.

Most of the photos on the site were of black men and white women. The contrasts were electrifying. For some reason, the vast majority of shots were of the women fellating the men.Probably to get the woman's face next to that beautiful dick, Angie mused.

It definitely had an affect on her. Angie imagined herself in the women's places. She wanted her face next to one of those cocks. She wanted to suck a black cock much more than ever wanted to suck a white one. In fact, whenever she thought about black cock, almost all she thought about was sucking one off.

The picture she'd selected had two elements that fired her lust even farther than the others. One was the collar the woman was wearing as she knelt before the black man. It was thin and black, tight against her neck, and a pair of bright red lips was stitched to it. It was the kind of collar a submissive wears to signal a surrender of control and those lips on the collar and her mouth on the cock seemed to indicate how she surrendered.

Angie kept her submissive fantasies under tight security. They were so strong they sometimes frightened her almost as much as they turned her on. Online, however, she could play with them without worry and this collared woman had every sexual zone in her body throbbing. Her nipples were so hard they ached. Even her anus was pulsing like a winking eye.

There was more. Attached to the collar was a short leash that he held in his hand. Obviously this black man, whose face was hidden, immaterial to the action, whose entire contribution to the composition was a tight lower abdomen, a huge, full, black sack, and an enormous black phallus, was in complete control of this stunning white woman.

Angie's finger raced against her clit. Oh god, to be the woman in that picture!! To have a black man control her like that!!!Blaine, would you do that for me? Make me suck your cock?

Her orgasm was almost upon her when Angie moved her concentration to the final incredibly exciting part of the photo, where the woman's mouth covered the end of the cock. Her lips were so red and full, so beautiful and contented. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she was doing what she enjoyed best.

Out of the corner of her mouth, cum was drooling. The black man with the cock that was too big for any woman had too much semen for her to swallow.

Oh god Blaine, just like that!! Use me! Use my mouth to satisfy your beautiful black cock. Shoot your spunk into it...make me swallow it...make me...

The sun was streaming through her bedroom window when Angie awoke. The clock on her night table said 9 a.m. and she briefly panicked thinking herself late for work. Then she remembered it was Saturday and stretched languidly. She hadn't felt this good in years.

How many times had she made herself cum last night thinking of black cocks, black cum, and black Blaine? She had no idea; she just went on and on until she passed out. That was twelve glorious hours of sleep ago.

She rolled over and sat up. Something hard and cold lay on the bed under her bottom. She smiled and pulled her favorite vibrator from between her legs. It had a thin, angled shaft, the better to stroke her g-spot with. The bulbous head was large and egg shaped. It was covered in dried woman goop.

Angie started for the kitchen to make morning coffee when she had an idea. Might Blaine be working today? Probably not, but it was worth the effort to drive over there for fix of lousy coffee and scrumptious young black stud.

Skirt or jeans, skirt or jeans? Angie asked herself over and over as she dressed. She stood in the bathroom in a pair of panties trying on different tops. The one good thing to having small boobs, perhaps the only good thing, was the lack of necessity brassieres were.

She liked wearing filmy tops that clung to her tit tips and could make some men drool. Would Blaine be one of those men? Doubtful, given the way he reacted whenever that trollop Dottie flounced her huge knockers in his face. Still, she thought when she settled on a turquoise silk that made her feel naughty as hell whenever she wore it, she could make the best of what she had.

In the end, she chose jeans, the ones that really flattered her butt. Blaine had admired Dottie's enough and she wore jeans. If that was what he liked, Angie would gladly stack hers up against Dottie's any day. Besides, she needed to shave her legs.

She chose a pair of casual, but expensive, high heeled sandals. At 5'6" Angie didn't always get to wear heels on a date but even at almost 5'10" she knew Blaine would tower over her. She shivered remembering his size and felt her nipples harden and push at the silk.

Even though it was Saturday and offered no excuse as to why she would be driving to the store, even though the debate she was having with herself had long been settled, Angie still asked herself the question as she drove.Why am I doing this?

A better question would have been why she couldn't prevent herself from going there. That was what was dangerous. If she couldn't even prevent herself from taking that trip on a day he probably wouldn't be working anyway, what chance would she have resisting whatever he demanded if, on the off chance he might consider "doing" her.

What if his cock were as big as some she'd seen pictures of? Something that large mightn't fit in the places he'd want to put it. She could be harmed. But even the thought of injury couldn't force her to turn around.

There was something else. Blaine was only nineteen; she'd heard Dottie mention it. It was one of the first mornings she'd gone into the store. A disheveled man was buying a quart of beer first thing in the morning.

"I'll take you over here," Dottie said when he'd gone to stand in Blaine's line. "He's only nineteen; he can't sell alcohol."

Angie was eight years out of college. She left those wild days firmly behind. Now she was clearly infatuated with this college aged kid. Why was this boy playing such dirty games in her mind? There was something so erotic to imagining submitting to someone a decade younger than she. It made her head spin.

Angie couldn't believe her luck. Blaine was at work! Of course so was Dottie but that was just a burden to be borne. The pair was already at their antics when she walked in. Did their ribaldry never stop?

The moment she stepped through the door, Angie noticed the collar around Dottie's neck. It was tight and black just like the one from the picture she'd cum to last night.

"Nice ass," Blaine stated.

Angie blushed as she walked to the coffee pot. Had he noticed already? When she turned however, she saw Dottie, on a short stool, loading packages of cigarettes into an overhead dispenser. It was her ass getting the compliment.

"Give it a bone, Blaine," she laughed. All, even the eavesdropper, knew she'd chosen the phrase deliberately, to get a rise out of the black youth.

"You said it was too big for that," he faux pouted.

"You're fucking incorrigible!" Dottie said, pushing his hands away from her butt where he'd pretended to stabilize her as she replenished the store's merchandise, and getting down from the stool.

"I am not. I even have a present for you," he said sweetly, almost genuinely, holding out a small paper bag.

"What now?" Dottie asked in exasperation as Angie approached the counter with her coffee. "You're a dick!" she spat, flinging the bag at his chest after looking inside.

The bag bounced off Blaine's chest onto the counter. The box inside slid out and onto the floor at Angie's feet. She picked it up. It contained those extra, extra large condoms. She quickly dropped the box on the counter as if she'd been burned. She felt light headed at the thought that Blaine was probably constructed in a way that would require such an item.

"I like your top," Dottie told Angie.

"Thanks..." Angie started to reply before realizing she'd been set up.

"I wish I could wear something like that," Dottie continued, pushing out her chest ever so slightly. "These can be such a burden at times," she said, making them sway.

"I'm sure they can," Angie muttered.God that woman's a cunt! she thought.

"This one's always asking if they're real," Dottie said, nudging Blaine in the side. "They don't look store bought, do they?" Dottie asked making Angie feel more uncomfortable than she imagined she ever could.

"They...they look fine," Angie finally answered after both workers stared at her until she said something.

"They should!" Dottie said indignantly, thrusting them forward now. "They are real! Go ahead," she said to Angie, "feel them."

Angie began to shake almost imperceptibly. Dottie's tits were gorgeous, the kind Angie sometimes wished she had. Not forever, not to keep. Angie was generally happy with her body. But just for a day, or a weekend, just to walk around with and make men stare at. Just to play with herself.

As Angie's hand reached, involuntarily, for that tempting fruit in Dottie's shirt, her mind went back more than a dozen years, back to that other woman, back to those other tits and what she'd done with them. Angie sighed and felt her flow begin anew as she stood in that store feeling up the hot blonde behind the counter.

Angie's eyes were closed and her breathing ragged as she felt the soft firmness of Dottie's big tit. How had she become so brazen as to stand in a public place feeling up a complete stranger? Not just a stranger but a female stranger. She felt Dottie push her chest forward, into the caress.

Her continuously weeping cunt exploded like a bursting dam. Hadn't it been just a few hours ago that she'd sated herself like never before? Normally she wouldn't need sex again for several days, but now, it was like last night never happened.

Angie felt her nostrils flare as she sought increased airflow to her lungs. She tilted her head back and a low, feral groan rumbled in her throat. And it wasn't even her tits that were being fondled. Just the proximity of that sensational young black stud and the soft, spongy titty in her hand were enough to make her libido exceed human speed limits.

A hand pushed against the back of Angie's head and she felt soft lips press against hers. Her eyes flew open and she saw Dottie's soft blonde hair through blurry eyes. Dottie parted her lips encouraging Angie to do the same, and was not disappointed as the women's tongues quickly intertwined. Angie's groan grew louder and her hand clawed at the big tit urgently.

"That's enough girls," Blaine said. "Customer coming."

Dottie pulled her tongue out of Angie's mouth and stepped back. Both women breathed raggedly. "I need another cup," Angie said, smilingly weakly.

"So," Dottie said as Angie re-approached the counter when the less-than-welcome customer had departed, "what did you think?"

"Think?" Angie asked in confusion.

"Yeah, the tits. Remember? Real or fake?" Dottie asked.

"Ah...oh. Ah...I guess I wasn't really paying attention to that. It felt really nice. If it's an implant, I couldn't tell."

"Let me have a feel," Blaine laughed and cupped Dottie's tit. "You need a man's perspective."

"That leave's you out kid," Dottie said, pushing his hand away.

"That's not what you said before," Blaine reminded Dottie for the umpteenth time.

"So you remind me every fucking day," Dottie told the black youth, then turned to Angie. "Don't ever get drunk around a kid," she warned. "You'll never hear the end of it."

The conversation stopped for a moment before Dottie continued in a throaty voice. "Still..." she said looking at Angie, "have you ever had a cock that was just too big?"

Angie felt light headed.Too big? That was all she could think about recently. Of course it wasn't really possible, was it? "Too big?" Angie giggled involuntarily.

"I'll take that as a no," Dottie said.

"I don't believe that's actually possible, is it?" Angie answered in the form of a question.

Blaine snorted.

"I think that's his way of saying he disagrees," Dottie told Angie. "Is that right, Blaine? Do you think she's wrong?"

"You already know she is," Blaine answered.

"But you don't know her," Dottie continued. "Maybe she, uh, has a greater...capacity."

"She's wrong," Blaine said with certainty.

"Cute, though, isn't she?"

"Very." Blaine answered.

"And a great kisser," Dottie assured him.

"I'm sure she is."

"You should find out for yourself," Dottie urged, stirring the pot.

"I'm not like you, Dottie."

"Suit yourself, but at least you should prove your point that she's wrong about your cock," Dottie said, brushing her hand across the front of Blaine's jeans. "Go ahead," Dottie dared, "take it out and let her see."

Angie's head was spinning. She could feel the swamp her panties had become just from thinking about Blaine's black cock. She felt lucky that she hadn't worn a skirt else her juices would be pouring down her thighs. Would this gorgeous black stud actually show her his dick? Would he really be as big as he implied?