College Chronicles Ep. 18 Pt. 01

"...You miss me?"

"Ugh! Fuck off!!"

She flounced around the couch and sat awkwardly, trying to preserve her skirts ironed-flatness and her own dignity. Jaxx laughed again, and meandered towards the fridge, not letting her bad attitude interrupt conversation.

"Shot?"

"No. Beer."

She shot him down quickly, confident in her decision. She knew that he was going to try to get her drunk, and she refused to play along. She wasn't going to be some basic ditzy clear alcohol drinking new year girlie, thirsting after a midnight kiss. (I didn't like that characterization, but let it slide so the story could continue.)

"Not very ladylike..."

"...The fuck? 'Ladylike'? Whatever I do is fucking ladylike. Just because you have some misogynistic, preconceived idea of what a 'lady' SHOULD be like doesn't mean I have to conform to it."

She'd rolled her eyes and shrugged for the air, then turned to aim her diatribe more accurately

He didn't react, sauntering over with a full shot glass in each hand.

"What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you! You didn't even get my beer!"

"Quit bitching and take this with me. Or I can make you a mixed drink..."

He pressed a glass into her defensive hand, forcing her to take it or risk spilling on herself. Then he smoothly knocked his shot back in a second, taunting her with his smug smirk.

"...You need to loosen up."

She rolled her eyes hard; he was being more aggressively annoying than usual. There was no way to talk to him when he was being like that, we both agreed. You just had to ride it out.

"Fucking... Ass..."

She trailed off, thinking about it for one more second then leaning in to the night by taking the shot, just as quickly and easily as he had. He smiled at her as he took the empty glass back, then quickly returned with another. When he raised a full one to his lips and cocked an eyebrow in wordless challenge, she accepted. They knocked the second back in silent synchronicity, meeting eyes after, and Nat became aware of a silent tension in the room, in Jaxx.

It was different than the usual tension; she had a bad feeling about it, deep in her gut. But she knew that if she tried to leave, it would be to merciless bullying. He might even actually be angry. So she put the feeling down to the alcohol in her stomach, and pulled out her phone to conspicuously ignore Jaxx.

Then the door swung open and trouble arrived.

Two big black guys walked in, and Natalie figured them as football players right away. The first in was really tall with dreadlocks hanging out from beneath a black durag. His clothes' informality contrasted Nat's sophisticated dress; a long tank top exposed his bulging shoulders and biceps while extremely distressed jeans sagged nearly to his knees. The other was more presentable, if only slightly. He was more average height, with short hair and a fresh fade, sporting a bomber jacket and ostentatious sneakers.

The two seemed oddly unprepared for the fancy night of clubbing Nat was expecting— closer to Jaxx than her. They walked in like they owned the place, in the middle of a heated debate.

"...woulda come back to the crib, but her friends was trippin'."

"Bitches always trippin' when you finna hit."

"Man FUCK you."

At an impasse, they finally looked around the room to greet Jaxx, and simultaneously realized Natalie's presence.

"Sup X... Damn. Hey girl."

Natalie, channeling her natural supercilious nature, turned the exclamation back on him with her own minimizing nickname.

"'Sup, boy."

When she told me she was devastating with her tone, I believed her. Nat didn't take shit from anyone.

Except Jaxx.

He ambled over and sat directly across the table from her, smug smirk plain on his face, content to let Natalie fend for herself without polite introduction. The two new arrivals joined them on the couch to either side of Natalie. They left some space between them and her, but outstretched arms over the couch back and feet kicked up on the coffee table left her feeling cornered, personal space invaded.

"Don't be like that, baby. You lookin' fiine. What's your name?"

"Ugh..."

She rolled her eyes, tossed her hair, crossed her legs and arms and gave each boy a long, withering stare. But she couldn't lie to me, and said she immediately thought the two guys were hot. She'd never hooked up with a black guy; not intentionally, but for lack of opportunity. She confided in me that she'd decided then she was going home that night with one of the intriguing new boys— it didn't matter which.

"Natalie. Now can you all get changed so we can go?!"

Her stomach was settling, with the two new boys sat down and so obviously infatuated. But that unease turned into impatience; none of them looked remotely ready to go, and she wanted to make the most of the night. The boy with dreads had other plans.

"Damn bih, let's chill first. Lamar."

He offered his hand, and she took a couple of his thick broad fingers and shook gingerly. His hand retreated, but returned seconds later with a long brown cylinder that stank like a skunk and drew Natalie's eyes as he waved it back and forth.

"I got this faaat blunt... Let me smoke you up, the club ain't gon' close."

"Shit..."

Natalie paused, biting her lip in thought. She didn't want to stay in 001 anymore, but Lamar's bud smelled dank as fuck, and as she felt the alcohol from the shots settle in, an opportunity to get under Jaxx's skin became clear. The two new boys weren't bad looking; maybe a little shameless flirting would make Jaxx jealous. Worst case, at least she could go back to a different room with a different person, on the first morning of the new year.

And she couldn't help but be curious... Were the stereotypes and innuendos and porn-fueled unrealistic expectations based on any truth? Would the big guys be packing equally big cocks? Could they even rival Jaxx's? She couldn't help thinking it, even if she knew she shouldn't, for all sorts of reasons.

"...Alright..."

She plucked the blunt from his hand decisively, and before he could react fished a lighter from her bra, lit and took a deep inhale. As she held her breath, she gave a look that dared him to object; to his credit, he put his hands up, letting her enjoy. After exhaling a big cloud of smoke directly in his face, she reminded the boys she still had other priorities.

"...But quick! I want to dance!"

That brought a laugh from the other newcomer, who she hadn't noticed edged closer while she was smoking. She turned to face him and tripped into his large, dark, kind eyes. Eyes that almost melted her icy front.

"Oh yeah? You dance, huh?"

The was slight innuendo in his phrasing, and she considered bitching him out. But the weed was merging with the alcohol in her system, and instead she played along, begrudgingly.

"What are you trying to say!?..."

He had kind eyes but could play rough— didn't bristle at her confrontational tone. Instead he raised his hands and gave a light smile; 'you know exactly what I'm saying.'

"...I dunno. A little. When I'm pretty drunk..."

"Let's get some fucking shots!"

The second boy shouted to no one in particular as he leaned across her to snatch the blunt from Jamal. Natalie inhaled, and caught the musky smell of whatever cologne he was wearing, feeling the rock-hard, rippling muscles of his arms and torso.

She didn't look, but was keenly aware of Jaxx across the table, watching the flirtatious conversation. She hoped he was jealous. I knew he wasn't, had more up his sleeve, that her story was going to be a bumpy ride.

At the time, Jaxx was content to play bartender, bringing over a whole tray of shots, then sitting down for his own pulls on the blunt. Natalie was too distracted to pay any more attention, caught between two boisterous admirers. The second identified himself as Dante as they worked away at Nat's barriers; a third and fourth shot went down not so smoothly. They tried to push a fifth, but she protested and demanded water instead. Dante got some, but they wouldn't let her hear the end of it; how disappointed they were, how they'd thought she was down.

She was, she demanded, then insisted, then pleaded. She needed to make it to the club at least, so she could dance. They had an answer for that too; why didn't she dance with them there. But it wasn't the same, no dance music, too bright, no crowds.

They had solutions for that too. They could change the music, something less poppy and more suggestive, a trap beat with booming, rattling bass that vibrated inside her. The lights went off, and one of the boys turned on his phone flashlight, waving the device around for a strobe effect that was inaccurate but hilarious.

They pulled to her feet, and suddenly both boys were pushing in from either side, grinding up against her, imitating the squeeze of a crowd bumping club. There wasn't time to argue or point out that they were still missing key features of a club— instead she danced back, spinning and bouncing and not doing anything when they grabbed handfuls of her tits or ass. She could feel their stiffening bulges on either side, but she didn't care. She was enjoying the attention, and somehow she still thought they were going to the club.

She didn't pause when one of the boys kissed her, closing drunk eyes and returning the passionate, immoderate embrace. A thick tongue slid between her lips, and she licked it back, sucked on it, moaned around it as another pair of lips made wet contact on her neck and sent shivers down her spine.

It was all moving too fast. Her eyes shot open, and she pushed away, knocking the boy behind her back. Her vision was spinning and she stumbled, bouncing off of the boys as they moved unpredictably.

"Wait... This... I..."

They were speaking, but between the loud music, her swimming head, and both speaking at the same time, she couldn't make their words out. Confused and more than a little on edge at how the situation was escaping her, she defaulted to her natural imperious bossiness, collapsing back onto the couch.

"I need water!"

She closed her eyes, rested her head back on the cushion, and enjoyed a brief moment of peace, even with the music thumping through her. It was interrupted when she felt an impact to each side. But then a glass was pushed into her hand. She lifted it to her lips to drink, and was relieved by cool, refreshing water.

So she took a long, deep drink, closing her eyes and nearly upending it in effort to drain as much as possible. Then it was being pried out of her hands by large, gentle fingers. Before she could protest, her lips were occupied in another passionate, sloppy kiss. She needed a second to think, a second to breathe— but he was kissing her with such urgency, and it felt so good. She didn't even know who she was kissing, had to figure it out by bringing a hand up the back of his neck to feel long braids of hair.

He took it as invitation, and a big hand was on her breast fondling and kneading, his fingers digging into skin where her considerable cleavage was exposed. She couldn't hold back a loud moan into his mouth; she loved when guys manhandled her tits. Dante, left out, took the cue and more. His hands reached for her unattended boob, but instead of just groping, fingers pushed under the tight dress and slipped her out, baring her chest for all to see.

Her eyes shot open at the sudden cold of nudity. They was too far, she had never intended for it to get that far. But Jamal was still kissing her hard, and when she pushed her hands against his chest to back away Dante made his move and lowered his head to her breast, teasing her tender, sensitive, newly pierced nipple with his broad tongue.

It sent more ripples of pleasure down her spine, joining the hot thrum of energy ignited by Lamar's heavy kisses. He must have seen Dante in his peripheral vision, because her second tit was out, dress hanging on for dear life, stretched open to bare her. He wasn't happy to just grope anymore, pulled his mouth away. Natalie's question was interrupted by a gasp and moan as he took up a position sucking her other nipple, both of the boys worshipping her benevolent endowments.

With her mouth free, she knew she should protest. Usually she would have lashed out, tongue biting like the crack of a whip. Drunk and baked and in a pretty good mood, she wanted to slow things down for a moment to breathe. Protest, joke, anything to get the attention off for a second.

But there was too much. She couldn't resist against two pairs of lips biting and licking at her tender nipples, the battling moans and slurps of unashamed lust that came from the boys' mouths, the naughty hands that inched their way under her skirt on the insides of her thighs, while more grabbed at her ass, stroked along her side. Words came out, but they were slow and disconnected, easily ignored.

"Ohhh... Wait... Mmmmm... Hold on... Ohhh fuckk..."

A pair of thick fingers broached another barrier, stroking gently up her naked pussy, and she regretted not wearing panties. The fingers spread her lips deftly to run up her slit, and she realized she was soaking wet, just dying for a cock. They penetrated her and curled inside, beckoning and pulling out a long, low moan and a decision she blushed to admit.

"Ohhhh, fuck me! "

She didn't care if she was in front of other people, didn't care which one, just needed one of the studs to fill her desperate pussy. The demand made them pull away from her tits, arguing about who got to be the lucky one, she assumed. She didn't really listen, way more than intoxicated in all sorts of ways. Instead she focused on herself, both hands trailing across her wet chest on their way to her hole, to finger herself and play with her clit.

With Natalie so lewd on the couch, tits out around her dress and legs open to expose her glistening, blushing labia under the bunched up hem... The boys wrapped their argument up quick. Jamal was the lucky one, and when he undid his jeans and fell onto the couch she knew instantly to crawl onto his lap and kiss him urgently. She couldn't help wiggling and bouncing, unable to contain a physical craving.

Then she spoke, and the words surprised her, hinting at a deep, dark kink she hadn't knowm was so strong in her psyche.

"Ohhhmigod... Gimme that big black cock!!"

She slurred the words, feeling so drunk and slutty and simultaneously horrified at what she had said. She knew it was wrong, knew it was racist to fetishize black guys like that. They're people, not sex objects. But she was so drunk, and so high, and so horny, and the words slipping out had tightened the thrum of energy inside her to an unbearable level, about to snap.

"Fuckin' white bitches. You want a real nigga dick, huh?"

He made hard eye contact as he responded, and her mind blew up at the heat of his gaze, his racially-based dismissal, and most of all his use of that horrible hateful word, so loaded it made her cringe.

"Oh my god..."

She shied away from his intense look, knew she'd gone too far. Then one big hand caught her chin, pulled her back up to look at him. He smiled, and it was okay— he was fucking with her. She wasn't a racist; or at least, she had permission to fetishize him. A smile spread on her own face as he chuckled, and she playfully hit his chest and went back to wiggling, trying to feel his erection while he reached down between them to free himself.

"...Mmmffuck yessss, gimme that... black dick!"

She almost tried his word, before catching herself. He didn't mention it.

"Get it baby..."

He was distracted, pulled his weapon out from the folds of his underwear while speaking. When his thick shaft made contact with Nat's bare labia, she jumped from the heat, but more importantly from the girth that she felt spreading her lips.

"Oh fuck!..."

Her eyes went wide; the stories, the rumors, the stereotypes... Based on Jamal, all true. A thrill of excitement ran through her, and she couldn't iron the girlish squeal out of her exclamation.

"...It's so fucking BIG!"

Jamal, veteran of many white girls, was used to that reaction, muttered distractedly as he maneuvered to slip it in.

"An' you gon' take it all, baby..."

A practiced expert, he didn't have trouble aligning his sword with her sheath. When she felt his fat head it was like her soaking wet pussy pulled him in, sliding smoothly, gradually on to him.

The slow penetration shook her; set her body on fire and her brain into space. She threw her arms over his shoulders, clasping hands behind his neck in prayer to whatever God would listen, and kissed him deeply as she began to rock forwards and back, inching herself further down his rod. His hands circled, flipping up her dress to take firm holds on her cheeks, squeezing to pull her down.

Natalie was relieved, for once, that she'd been fucking Jaxx. If not she wasn't sure she would have been able to take Jamal's big dick. She hadn't even seen it, but from the feel and presence inside her, it was as big as Jaxx's, stout and concrete hard. Each second she was sure she had taken as much as could fit, had reached the end— but she was wrong and his advance continued until she had to lean back in for another kiss, an urgent physical reaction to his manhood's confident stance.

Locked to his lips, her fall came to a stop. She was impaled well on his lap, and he paused for a second, maybe letting her sit and adjust, probably just revelling in her tight pussy. His hands didn't let up on either cheek, squeezing harder, digging into the fat of her butt. She shivered and wiggled, adjusted well enough and wanting more.

It felt like eternity, but Jamal reached the same conclusion, and with his iron grasp, lifted her ass up his cock before pushing her back down, and a loud curse from her mouth.

"Ugh!! SHIT!!"

He kept going in spite of her, fucking hard with the lust of a grown man. And she couldn't rationalize it, could barely even explain to me, but knowing Jamal was black; that there was a big, dark, forbidden phallus violating her pale white and pink body... Like I said, she couldn't find the words, and knew it was wrong, but knowing it was wrong made it more right, right?

I knew the feeling but didn't admit it, agreeing with her while thinking about Jae and his big cock plowing Bianca. Would his massive dark spear fit inside me? But Natalie continued her story.

After the introductory shock, she came around quick, taking initiative to slide herself up and down on his rampant erection. She matched the pace he set, bouncing on his joystick and grunting with each slapping impact of her crotch with his lap. Fighting for control of her body, she kissed him, then leaned her head on his shoulder as he kissed her neck, and she gave long moans when he pushed her back and sucked on her swinging tits again, with some of his cock still penetrating her in testament to his length.

It was all warm and fuzzy, until a second pair of hands took a firm grasp on her exposed ass cheeks, squeezing her, thumbs right in her crack next to her asshole, spreading her too wide. An unwelcome and cold clarity cutting through her fantasy dream. She gasped, jumped, tried to turn around to see and stop her violator. But Jamal's hands caught her arms as they went to leave his neck. She tried to fight, but his grasp was like iron. And then one of those wandering thumbs made contact with her clenching butthole, and she really protested.

"Woah! Wait! Waitwaitw- OHH!"

Slick with some liquid, one of the thick digits pushed at her hole for a second before slipping in; her eyes and mouth popped open with it. She'd fucked plenty of guys, and I knew for a fact she was a veteran to anal, but a guy in each? She felt so full, so stretched, she could barely think past her cry of surprise.