James Gang Ch. 03: Alpha Bitch


His thrust got harder, and I was getting closer to orgasm.

"Oh yes, lover," I gasped. "All you had to do was ask. I wanted you for such a long time, too. You're so handsome, so strong. And your cock feels so good."

Okay, some of those things were lies, but it helped to play along. He was picking up a stronger rhythm from my naughty talk, his lust fueled as I played directly to his ego.

"Damn your pussy is so tight, bitch," he growled, pausing to place his hand on my ass while he continued grinding away inside. "You love having this cock inside your tight little cunt, don't you?"

"Oh fuck yes, baby," I cried, still on the cusp of cumming. "Give it to me! Give me that cock! I need it!"

"You're my slut tonight, you hot little whore."

"Fuck yes! I'm your whore tonight, Wes baby. Just fuck me!"

Wes pounded me for close to forty-five minutes, twice as long as our usual sessions. I think he was spurred on by the knowledge that this was our last time together. I came maybe four, five times throughout and I almost reconsidered my decision to stop. But, I knew I needed to. Nothing good could come out of continuing.

"I'm gonna miss a hot piece of ass like you," Wes said as he slapped my ass, just as I finished putting my jeans back on.

I purred my appreciation. "You were very good yourself, lover. Especially this time. Someone's been getting lots of practice, I see. Having fun with your new singlehood, hm?"

He smiled at me, but it seemed bittersweet. "Let me ask you something . . . did you really tell Cindy I was a dog?"

I paused, and hesitated to meet him in the eye for a moment. That question had certainly come from nowhere. Still, he deserved to know the truth, and I wasn't exactly ashamed of my actions.

"I did," I told him.

"That's what I thought," he sighed. "She told me you did. 'You know that blond bitch said you were a dog, right? That you would never be a faithful husband. That's the kind of bitch you're fucking.' That was the text message she sent me."

I shrugged. "I said it, and I meant it. Your actions after the breakup haven't changed my mind."

"Well, I'm not mad. I guess I should be or something, but I'm not. Tell the truth, I was always afraid to become a husband. I mean, I'm just twenty, right? Should I really be trying to make that kind of commitment?"

I shrugged again. "I'm not your psychiatrist. You need a head shrinker, the Student Services building is that-a-way."

He stared at me for a moment, but then chuckled. "She was right about one thing. You are kind of a bitch."

I licked my lips lustfully at him. "And you love it."

"True that," he agreed. "Okay, look, I was planning on asking this before, and even if we're not going to fuck anymore, I might as well ask you anyway." I waited for him to continue. "There's a party a couple of weeks away. Since the semester's almost done, the UCLA Athletics Dept throws a jam for our graduating seniors. It's a good way to end the season, since no team is the same two years in a row. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be my date."

Again, he'd taken me off-guard. "Why me? Don't you have lots of other girls to ask?"

"Yeah, but none of them are as pretty as you. And besides, you're kind of the Alpha Bitch of the campus. You're something of a gold medal for most guys around here. No offense."

I smiled at his directness. "None taken. Look, I don't mind going, but just so you can walk in with me on your arm and show off what a hot piece of ass you showed up with. After I get there, though, I'm my own woman and I can talk to whoever I want. The only way I'm going is if we're clear on that."

"Totally," he agreed. "Thanks."

He almost turned to leave, but then stopped himself and faced me again. His hands reached up to cup my tits through my blouse. "God, I'm gonna miss those," he said before turning and leaving for real.


After he was gone, I hopped on my computer and began running searches online. I tried "interracial sex", "big black cock", "black studs", and several others along those lines. I was in pure heat, despite not having been fucked even an hour ago. Wesley had done an adequate job of keeping the lust contained, but now that he was gone again, I was full on into my black cock obsession.

I loved the pictures and videos of white women fucking hot black studs, and there were plenty to be found on the internet . . . both professional and amateur porn. Still, I wasn't satisfied with just searching for random pics and vids. Some of the black guys weren't especially large, and some of the amateur ones were hairy or pudgy.

On a whim, I decided to search for "Sean Dark". I knew that was the handle of Layla's boyfriend, although I didn't know his real name. It was hard to find proper matches—I kept having to refine my search with things like, Sean Dark+porn, Sean Dark+videos, Sean Dark+large cock.

I finally found what I was looking for under the search "Sean Dark+white pussy". There was just one two-minute-long video, posted on a free site. But there he was, the infamous sSean Dark, feeding his cock into some pretty white brunette.

He eased in slowly, and the camera zoomed in right at her pussy, right where you could see both of their faces as they looked down at the black piston slowly sliding into her moist tube. Sean paused partly and then began to withdraw. I was in complete awe as I watched more of that black shaft slide out of her pussy than I thought would. I'd heard that Sean was about eleven inches, but either my sense of measurements was wrong or whoever had told me was trying to under-guesstimate.

When he had pulled nearly all the way back out, with only his head still inside the white woman's pussy, it occurred to me that the part I'd seen sliding into her at the beginning of the video had only been half of his cock. I know that much because only about half of his manhood was glistening with the juices from the girl's cunt. The rest was still completely dry.

I didn't realize it until I saw my own reflection on the computer screen, but I was smiling brightly, with wide eyes transfixed at how gorgeous it was. I wanted it. I wanted it inside me. I wanted it all the way in. I didn't care how much it hurt, how much it stretched me. I'd had lots of large cocks inside me, and I considered them all to be good practice.

I think that was the point that I began to realize I'd become a size queen.

I paused the video and ran out of the dorm to the nearest sex and fetish shop I could find. I bought the largest dildo they had on stock and raced back home with it. It was actually kinda funny when I had to stand in the elevator with this huge purple dildo in my hands while three other riders eyed me quizzically. But I didn't care—like I said before, I wasn't shy and I don't embarrass easily. I hope I gave their naughty imaginations a good work out.

I got back to my dorm and threw my clothes off immediately, making myself stark naked as I sat before the monitor again. I restarted the video with the head of my substitute black cock rubbing at the head of my soaked clit. I was disappointed to notice at that moment that Sean's cock was actually much larger than the piece I'd bought.

On a second thrust, Sean took his cock back inside, and the white slut began hollering. I watched her face as he sank inside her, and let me say that there's no way she was faking. She was totally gone as he slid inside, and I watched as her entire body went limp and became sheer putty. The sensation of pure ecstasy . . . of pleasure so deep that it takes you to another plane of existence. I hadn't had that feeling in quite a while—probably since the first year after I'd gotten my cherry popped.

The white slut gasped and whined with pleasure as I watched her pussy swallowing inch by inch of that beautiful dark cock like it belonged there . . . belonged inside her. I saw her eyes glaze over, and she was reaching the zenith of her climax . . .

And just like that, the video was over.

Like I said, it was only roughly two minutes long, and this was a free site. It was the only video of him I could find there. There were other interracial videos, but none of the men had the sheer gargantuan length that Sean displayed. They were all lovely, of course, and far longer than any of the white men I'd been with, but after I'd gotten one glance at the monster Sean Dark had been packing, I needed to see more of it.

I watched the video again, and this time I paid attention to the watermark that appeared briefly in the bottom-right corner—the one that said "StallionProductions.com". I was drawn there. Drawn by that thick dark snake.


For the rest of the week, when I wasn't at school, working out, or hanging with the girls, I was in my dorm, watching and downloading all of the Sean Dark movies that I could. I had made an account at StallionProductions.com, and became a full member. That site was ridiculously expensive . . . but it was worth it. I found all of the black cock on that website that I could ever want. But Sean remained my favorite—he was the biggest fish in the pond.

I didn't realize it yet, but I had begun a transformation. I was becoming obsessed, thinking about being fucked by a long black cock at all times of the day. For the first time, I even began to turn my head and look whenever I saw a black guy in my immediate area. I was beginning to understand the attraction now—their rich, chocolate skin, their creamy lips, and their deep dark brown eyes. Those features started making me wet almost every time I noticed them.

I was playing with myself several times daily, and I'd saved more than thirty-four gigs worth of interracial pornography on my computer. More than seventy percent of the videos were of Sean.

It wasn't just Sean's chiseled body . . . or his gorgeous babyface . . . or his extremely long and thick cock . . .or his . . .

Wait, sorry. I was going off on a tangent there . . .

It wasn't just any of that stuff. It was his attitude, his demeanor. It was the way he fucked those white girls. Sean took them—claimed them for his own. He tore the clothes off of them, he mauled their tits with his hands. He spun them around and bent them over with sheer control. Turning them into his toys.

And while he fucked them, he kept playing to his dominance. When I would close my eyes, I could hear him calling them—calling ME—his "white bitch", his "white ho" in that thick urban accent of his. I had no idea that a city accent could sound so sexy, but it made me shutter just to hear it. I lost control over and over again.

This eventually came to a head one day when Layla and the other girls came to visit me. We were sitting in my dorm, playing a friendly hand of poker when Layla glanced at her watch.

"Oh shit! Let me use your computer, girl! It's almost eight, and I promised my professor I'd email my paper before nine o'clock!"

I tilted my head toward the computer. "Go ahead, Lay. You know what's mine is yours."

Layla thanked me and climbed into my computer chair. The rest of the girls and I continued chatting and focusing on our game. A few minutes later, though, I was interrupted by a shout from Layla.

"Hey, what the fuck is all this!?"

I turned and saw that she'd open my "Recent Files"; there, she was staring at over a dozen video files.





My entire body became hot, and Layla turned in my chair and with the angriest eyes I had ever seen.

"Why are there so many videos of my boyfriend on your fucking computer!?"

The other girls turned to look at Layla and then at me. My eyes glanced from one to the other as they each waited for me to provide an explanation.

"I . . . well, I . . ." I swallowed hard. "Look, I was just looking at a lot of porn and—"

"Yeah, I can see that," Layla snapped. "And all of it seems to be starring my man! What, are you plannin' to steal him from me next, like you did Wes and Cindy!?"

"Now, wait just a damn minute!" I yelled. "I didn't steal anybody!"

"Right, you just broke the two of them up and then fucked Wesley on pure coincidence. Right."

I grew even angrier. "It's the truth!"

Layla rolled her eyes and turned back to my computer. "Whatever, bitch," she said as she began to type at my keyboard.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. She didn't answer. "What are you DOING?!"

She group highlighted all of my videos and then pressed delete. Of course, since there was no way files that big could fit in the Recycle Bin, the computer began permanently deleting them from my hard drive.

"NO!!" I yelled, shoving Layla out of my chair and trying to stop the deletion. It was too late, though. In a matter of seconds, it was all gone. All of my black cock porn went up in smoke, including the stuff that didn't star Sean.

"You fucking BITCH!" I growled at Layla.

"Look who's talking, you skank! Who the fuck do you think you are to get off watching my boyfriend?!"

"I'm a paying customer, is what! I paid for every one of those videos, fair and square!"

My answer took her by surprise, but she was too angry to give it much consideration. "Sean is not a gigolo!"

"I didn't say he was, but if he's putting his junk out there for the world to see, then it's fair game. I can watch it as easily as the millions of other people on the internet! Who the fuck do you think you are to walk in here and tell me what I can and can't do?!"

Layla's eyes narrowed and she pointed a long dark finger into my face. "Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, you harlot. You hear me? In fact, stay the fuck away from me, too. I don't need anything to do with scheming, man-stealing friends!"

She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and stormed out of my dorm before I could retort. She slammed my door as hard as she could as she left, knocking some of my things down from their shelves. In the meantime, the other girls were sitting silently and staring at one-another. Then the four of them looked up and stared at me as I seated myself back at the table.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" I protested.

"Come on, Sarah," Leslie began. "Can't you see how it's a little suspect? First you break up Cindy and Wes and then fuck him, and now you're looking at videos of Layla's boyfriend . . ."

"What, you think I'm a man-stealer, too!?" I demanded. "And how dare you judge me! You all fucked Wesley, too!"

They glanced away, knowing I was right.

Pearl touched my hand. "Hey, Sar, I want to believe you, but you gotta understand how Layla feels. She's the only one in our group with a man now, and you were the architect behind Cindy's breakup. I believe you when you say that you didn't plan to steal him intentionally, but intentional or not, that's pretty much what happened. Layla's just trying to protect what's hers."

"I understand that," I responded, "but she didn't have to be an unbelievable bitch about it." I sighed and folded my arms as I leaned back. "Sorry girls, I'm not in the mood to finish our game now. Could you see yourselves out? I wanna go to bed and sleep this off."

The girls each nodded and stood. They all wished me good night, but Pearl was the only one to look at me on their way out.


Maybe out of spite, I downloaded all of my old videos over again. Luckily, I was still a member of the site, so it was free to do so—just time-consuming. It took me the better part of the week to complete my collection again.

Layla never wanted to be around me anymore. When she and the other girls hung out, she would stand and walk away as I approached. The other girls never seemed all that comfortable around me after that, but they tried to hide it. I was certain that the five of them were talking about me when I wasn't around.

That last part was confirmed one day, when Pearl and I were alone.

"Layla's trying to convince all of us that you're bad news," Pearl told me. "She said that you you've shown your 'true colors' and that none of us will be safe to have a man as long as you're around."

Even though I'd known this was probably the case, it still ticked me off. "And what did the other girls say?"

Pearl looked away. "They don't . . . say anything, really."

"They don't defend me!? They don't tell Layla she's out of her goddamn mind?!"

Pearl scratched her head. "They . . . they haven't agreed with her or anything . . . but, well . . . no, they didn't say that."

I was stunned. My four closest friends and all of them were against me. Only Pearl had the nerve to tell me the truth.

Who was showing their 'true colors' again?

I was in a bad mood leading up to the party. My only relief came from watching my black cock porn collection. For a time, I tried to acquiesce and avoid looking at Sean's videos. Not because I thought that bitch Layla was right, but because I wanted to prove that I didn't have the hots for her man or anything. It was black cock I was interested in, not the man it was attached to.

I think I made it all of two days. The other black men just didn't compare. Sean's cock was magnificent in that it was long, straight, thick and veiny. It was like he had been born with the perfect tool . . . as if God wanted to craft a pure masterpiece of a dark pleasuring tool.

I always came instantly whenever I thought of it all fitting inside me.

The day of the party, I fulfilled my promise and went as Wesley's date. I dressed in something moderately skanky—an extremely thin, pink camisole with spaghetti straps and a low neckline carved to show off my bountiful bust. The camisole had been tailored specifically to dangle just above my midriff, allowing the occasional peek at my dainty belly button. Below the waist, I had on an obscenely short skirt, guaranteed to give a glimpse at my thong to any guy that was interested. Topping it all off were my toeless white heels whose sexiness was equal only to how difficult they were to walk in.

Wesley did a double take when he picked me up for our "date", and I could see the gears in his head turning, regretting that he'd already had his last chance to fuck me. I didn't do anything to lead him on—I didn't walk close enough to hold his arm or wait for him to open any doors for me. The only time we did anything remotely resembling a couple is when we walked through the door to the party arm-in-arm, and turned every head in the room.

But, almost as soon as we were inside, my mind had almost forgotten all trace of Wesley. Instead, I was transfixed on something else . . . something which stopped my breath.

. . . The sheer number of tall, muscular black men in the room.

I figured it made sense—this was, after all, a sports party and there were men in blue-and-gold jerseys from all of the UCLA teams: the basketball team, football team, soccer team, hockey team, track and field, baseball . . . just about every sport you could think of. And of course, all of these guys were tall, powerful, and very manly. I had never seen such a collection of huge guys before in my entire life.

But I had especially never been in the presence of so many tall, handsome black men. They were everywhere.

I separated myself from Wesley immediately and got to mingling. I was practically soggy the entire night, and I'm sure that someone must have noticed at some point that the inside of my thighs were leaking. I didn't particularly care. I just positioned myself wherever I was within the field of vision for the largest flock of black men. Most of them noticed and I could see their gazes falling upon me, checking me out like I was a piece of merchandise. It gave me a rush of excitement . . . feeling so many eyes upon me, and knowing that they were undressing me with their imagination.

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