Jennifer's Story

While the characters in this story are fictional, the story was created based upon information provided by a drop dead gorgeous young woman who is proudly black owned. She knows who she is and I think her.

I stood before my dressing mirror, heart racing, as I inspected myself. When smoothing my dress over my hips the glint of my diamond and wedding band caught my attention. I considered taking them off, but remembering Sally's comments about the popularity of married women, decided to leave them on. I was pleased by my sexy, inviting reflection. Having small breasts, I seldom wore a bra, and the thin fabric of my dress seductively outlined my breasts. I had spent more time than normal getting ready. I was freshly showered. On an impulse resulting from the wanton thoughts and desires that had taken over my being, while shaving my legs, I also shaved my pussy bare. If he even noticed, I figured I'd tell my husband that I shaved it to welcome him home.

I reflected back on the journey that had brought me to that moment. I was raised in a conservative suburban town. Growing up, I accepted without question my parents' belief that blacks were just as good as we were, but as far as relationships go, each group was meant to stay with their own kind. I would actually feel revulsion when I saw a white girl walking with a black man because I had been taught that what they were doing was unnatural.

By the time I was in college, I saw some of my white classmates dating black men, and rationalized that if the races were truly equal there should be no reason why they shouldn't be together if they desired, but I definitely felt it was inappropriate for me. All through college, all my boyfriends and lovers were white. I was curious; however, as to why I saw many more white women with black men than the other way around.

By the time I was twenty five, I was married to a successful dentist older than myself. I had been attracted to him because he seemed so much more mature than the guys I dated in college, and he was already financially established. For the most part, I had a good life. We lived in an upscale neighborhood. I drove a Jaguar convertible. My sex life; unfortunately, was a bust. After courtship and the first year of marriage, Rick showed little interest in sex; we even slept in separate bedrooms. We made love once a month if I was lucky, and even then I had to be the initiator. I collected an assortment of toys that I used to make up for my husband's lack of attention. As I told my closest girlfriends, those who knew my real situation, I was my own best lover.

Perhaps I did it to prove I was desirable, but I always made a point of dressing sexy whenever I had the chance, even if I was only going to the grocery store. I also started to flirt, and did so discreetly when ever Rick wasn't around. At least once a month, I would go out with three or four of my girlfriends for drinks and dancing. I had fun flirting and turning guys on, but always turned down any overtures to go further. All I was interested in was a little innocent fun; I had no desire to cheat on my husband.

Occasionally black guys would come to our table asking one or more of us to dance. I turned down such offers, but my friend Sally often accepted if the guy was big and good looking enough. She would even turn down requests from white guys if she thought a black guy might approach her.

Finally, one day when it was just the two of us having tea at my house, I asked Sally, "Why do you dance with black guys when we go out?"

"I'll tell you because I know I can trust you to keep a secret," she responded. "I prefer black lovers, and some of the men I dance with I see later. Have I shocked you?" she added after a pause.

"Yyyes," I stammered. I was taken back. "I thought you and Jim were OK. I mean you've always said what a good lover Jim was, why have sex with someone else?"

"Oh Jim's great in the sack, and I love him dearly, but he can't fuck me the way my black boyfriends can. It's just not possible," she added. "There's an intensity to black on white sex that I haven't found anywhere else. Part of it is because we're of different races and I'm doing something that's exotic, dangerous and forbidden. Then there's the equipment."

My curiosity was definitely peaked. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Smiling at me, Sally continued, "Sex with blacks is powerful. I experience ecstasy that I can't get anywhere else, certainly not from Tom. To start with, their cocks are generally bigger, and with some, they are truly enormous, freakishly big. My black boyfriends have incredible endurance; they stay hard and keep fucking me until I'm exhausted from cumming."

"When I'm with a black man, we are both aware of race. I know I am a snowy white prize, the perfect bunny, and he loves knowing that he is putting me on levels no man of any other race can share with me. He loves it, it makes him stay rock solid hard right through his orgasm on the way to his second, and he barely softens at all before cumming a third time. Black guys cum quick, they cum hard, and they just keep cumming and cumming. Some black men have put me in near continuous orgasm until I felt I was brain damaged in the morning. Now don't get me wrong. Not all black men can do that for me. That is why I reserve my flirtations for those men who are of great height, extra dark, lanky and charismatic. I want an African alpha male. After I experienced a truly great African lover, I was hooked. I still love Jim and love making love to Jim. But with my black boyfriends its different, when we fuck, it isn't making love; we're having wild, uninhibited sex."

I found myself getting aroused listening to Sally's explanation.

"When you decide you're ready, you and I can go to club in the dark side of town," Sally said. "I'll introduce you to some of my friends. They love young married white women. But when you go you need to be aware that the general rules of courtship won't apply there; you're in their realm, but you are not one of them. In that club, the black guys aren't going to treat you the way white guys would or the way they treat black girls. We're at the mercy of our own wits and the charged lusting of energetic black men driven by our dainty white femininity." She stopped for a moment and smiled. "They know why we're there. The guys are bigger, tougher, faster, more coordinated, better dressed, better dancers, they love fucking white girls, and they expect to fuck or at least get their dicks sucked off before the night is over."

"What do you mean when I'm ready?" I asked a bit taken back. "What makes you think I'd cheat on Rick?"

"You've told me what your sex life is like. You're too young and sensual to go through the rest of your life with no more gratification than that. I believe you'll tell me when you're ready to experience sex as you've never experienced it before."

I pondered that discussion for many weeks. I thought about the risks, but I couldn't get the images Sally left me with out of my mind. She definitely piqued my curiosity. I found myself being more aware of the looks good looking black men gave me when I was out. During my "toy time" I found myself fantasizing that I was being taken by a large black man.

Finally after having vacillated back and forth many times, I worked up enough courage to drive a stake into the ground. I picked up the phone and told Sally I was ready to take her up on her offer. Both our husbands would be away at camp for deer season, and we decided to get together that first Saturday night. Having made the commitment, I was scared and visibly shaking when I hung up the phone.

There were butterflies in my stomach as I turned away from the mirror upon hearing Sally open the side door and call out a greeting.

Entering the club, we found seats at a small table. The first thing that struck me was the number of really good looking white women that were there. About half the women there were white, beautifully dressed and gorgeous, but there were no white men. I noticed several of the women were wearing wedding rings, but none of their partners were. It was clear that the club was all about pampered white women being fucked by big rutting black men. We all hear about clubs like this, but we never expect to find ourselves, as young brides, dolled up at our best, nerves like butterflies-actually being there.

Recognizing Sally, two men sauntered over to our table. Sally greeted each with a quick kiss, and then introduced us. Sally and Darnell left for the dance floor and Wendell promptly asked me to dance. I was captivated immediately by the sound of his deep, mellow voice. Still, I was so nervous and scared that I had to work not to trip as I stood up. I welcomed the opportunity to move about on the dance floor. I concentrated on dancing, allowing the flashing lights and beat of the music to take over my body, postponing thinking about what I was getting myself into. While I might play at flirting, I'm rather prudish and stuck-up actually, but as I moved and made my sexy dancing faces....I was finding myself wondering if he found me sexy. I can't explain, but I felt a desire to be desired by him.

Wendell was as excellent dancer as my husband was inept. Catching a glimpse of the two of us in a mirror, I marveled at the way we looked together, his size overwhelming my slender 5'5" figure, his darkness contrasting with my paleness, the two of us united by a common rhythm. When Rick danced, he looked to be in such pain that I'd stopped encouraging him. Dancing with Wendell, I was having more fun dancing than I'd had in many years.

Not paying a whole lot of attention to who was around me, I was bumped hard by a black girl. Wendell quickly pulled himself up to his full six and a half foot height and inserted himself between the woman, her escort and me as if daring either to do anything more. Nothing else happened. That display of power and the obvious respect it commanded made a strong impression. His defense for me struck a primal cord deep within me. I was under his protection, and at some level I felt I had become his possession.

My initial fear and apprehension was gradually being overtaken by excitement. I felt as if an erotic spell was being cast over me. I began to sense an instinctive erotic draw to the powerful man moving in front of me. He didn't hesitate to dance close, grinding his body into mine, and I started grinding back. As we began to slowly freak dance, I found myself loving the feeling. Our dancing had become foreplay. We were surrounded by other couples grinding and dancing as we were. I could feel the sexual tension in the room. Everyone was turned on, including me. There was a different feel there than other dance clubs, all the couples on the floor being black and white, so many of those women married, like me.

Fear and excitement had become arousal. My hard nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of my dress. I sensed the wetness growing in my pussy. Dancing with my body pressed against his, I felt the growing hardness at his groin, which further fueled my arousal. Dancing like that I really became aware of how very dark-black he was, and tall. *sigh*

When we took a break I was able to get Sally alone to ask, "They were expecting us weren't they?"

"Yes, Wendell's just the person to be your first black lover. There is nothing he loves more than breaking young, gorgeous, married white women like you. He's very well endowed and very skilled. Tonight he'll take you to places you've never been before."

"Did you tell him that I've never had a black man?"

"Yes, I did. He'll be gentle with you since it's your first time; and he'll be extra horny knowing that you're still a virgin."

"What do you mean? How can a married woman a virgin?"

"Before the night's over, he's going to fuck parts of your pussy that have never been touched by a cock before," was her quick response as Darnell reappeared to lead her back to the dance floor.

Wendell was right behind Darnell with my coat in his hand. "Time for us to leave this place."

"What about Sally," I asked in near panic. Somehow I had been expecting we would be together for the evening.

"She knows where to find you," he said as he led me toward the door.

I looked to the dance floor trying to see Sally, hoping for reassurance, but there was no sight of her among the couples gyrating to the music.

Surrendering to Wendell's wishes, I left the club with him. 'Where are we going?" I asked as he held the door for me.

"My place is a short drive from here," was all he said.

Once in his car, he asked, "So, what's the story? Your guy have a small dick, or what?"

I half chuckled at his question as I answered, "No, his dick's OK. He just doesn't use it enough."

Laughing he said, "That man's a fool. He should know if he don't pay attention to a woman as good looking as you, you'll find what you need somewhere else. And now you're going to find out that his dick is too small too. Once you've tasted black cock, you'll never be satisfied with your little dicked husband again."

"You haven't even seen my husband's dick," I said in defense of my absent husband.

"And you obviously haven't seen a black cock," he retorted, "or you wouldn't say that. All I need to know is he's white, and I know he swings a dicklett." About that time he pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.

His place was a small, but neat apartment. I surveyed my surroundings as he took my coat and noticed that all the decorations were masculine; there wasn't a feminine touch to be seen. As I stood there, I was surprised at myself. I no longer felt scared or nervous. I still wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into, but I was resigned to my situation and prepared to make the most of it.

Music began filling the room as Wendell returned. He stepped up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. I tilted my head as I felt the scratchiness of his short cropped goatee brush the back side of my neck. He gently began placing a string of kisses on the side of my neck, moving to my shoulder. Reaching around, he cupped a breast in a huge hand, gently twisting the instantly erect nipple through the thin fabric as I let out a soft moan of acquiescence.

As I turned to face him, my lips met his full lips. A lingering kiss ensued. His tongue entered my mouth. I greeted the incursion and our tongues spared in mutual exploration.

He pulled me close against his body, crushing my breasts against his massive chest. My hands roamed his muscular back, sensing the strength that lay just under his shirt.

His pelvis, pushing into me, allowed me to feel the hardness that awaited me. I could feel my juices begin to flow in anticipation, and I began rubbing against his leg.

I was thinking, "If this man fucks the way he kisses, it's going to be a great night."

A song started with a fast tempo and strong underlying beat. Wendell broke off our kiss as he stepped back. "Dance for me," he directed as he sat in a chair.

A bit taken back, I didn't know what to do at first. I felt a little awkward, but let the music take over. The music was loud, I could almost physically feel the beat, and soon I was swaying before him to the rhythm, making the most seductive moves I could think of.

"Now take off that dress."

"I don't know how to strip," I protested.

"You're doing good," he encouraged. "Just shed that dress like you was a snake done with its skin."

After working the zipper down, I allowed my dress to fall first off of one shoulder and then the other. Briefly I danced holding up the front before I allowed it to fall to my waist completely exposing my small but pert breasts; my small pink nipples erect.

My heart was racing and my excitement increasing as I danced, half naked at the command of the dark man before me.

Running my hands over my hips, I slithered the rest of the fabric off my body until it dropped, to become a puddle of black on the floor.

I was left in thigh high stockings, shoes and thong.

As I slowly rolled down my thong, Wendell exclaimed, "Damn, I sure do love a smooth pussy!" as I revealed the entrance to my vagina to him for the first time.

After dancing out of the thong, he called, "Come here girl; dance closer."

Stripping for him was such a turn on. My pussy was throbbing for attention. I was like a bitch in heat.

Working up to him, I straddled his leg and began to grind my crotch against his thigh.

Cool hands against my back pulled me into him as he took my entire breast into his mouth. He commenced to suck one breast then the other, licking and gently biting my taunt tipples.

The occasional sharp nip of his teeth on tender pink flesh, while causing me to catch my breath, only increased my arousal.

I started running my fingers through his short, black, kinky hair. It was course like Brillo, so different from my husband's soft hair. Suddenly soft hair on a man seemed effeminate somehow, and unappealing.

I moved a hand to his lap finding the bulge of his hard cock I was pleased by the effect I was having on him as I massaged what I could through his slacks with my fingers.

Abandoning my breasts, he directed, "Take it out. See what a real cock looks like."

As I knelt before him, I saw that his trouser leg was soaked where I had been riding it.

After working his belt loose and pulling down the zipper, he raised his hips so I could pull down his pants and boxers freeing the biggest cock I ever saw.

It was blacker than even Wendell was, and I could not close my hand around its girth.

Mesmerized, I started to lick the head and along the shaft.

After my first tentative licks I heard, "That's it girl. Suck my black dick. Get it ready for you."

I couldn't imagine a cock that large in my vagina. I was starting to fear what it might do to me.

I imagined my insides being torn up as a rutting Negro repeatedly slammed that huge thing into my body.

Realizing I was alone, trapped with him and at his mercy, I thought if I could suck him off, even let him cum in my mouth, he might be satisfied.

With a little difficulty, I took as much of his cock in my mouth as I could and began bobbing up and down. I rolled my face underneath so he could look down into my eyes, with his heavy equipment stretched across my cheeks and throat.

I pulled him down and massaged my neck and cheeks with him. I felt very aware of wanting to look sexy for him, watching me, sliding my tongue across him, allowing streams of saliva to drip from his titanic erection.

I never blew my husband like that, sloppy, slutty, gasping on my knees.

"You like to suck my black cock don't you?" He stated rather than asked.

"I knew you'd be a slut for black cock when I first saw you."

His cock stiffened and grew even larger. Wendell grabbed a fist full of hair as he started to raise his hips to meet my down strokes forcing his cock deep into the back of my throat.

My jaw ached.

I had to time my breathing around his thrusts.

Wendell's grip tightened, pulling my hair. He had taken over completely, thrusting up into my mouth as he forced my head down, fucking my face.

I forced myself to relax and concentrated on the huge black cock that was stretching my lips.

Fortunately, before long, I felt him tense and then a massive amount of cum exploded into my mouth.

I swallowed what I could; the rest ran out the sides of my mouth and down my chin.

I had never allowed a man to cum in my mouth before, but I felt compelled to drink Wendell's seed.

The slightly salty taste mingled with the musky smell in my nostrils.

I sucked on his cock until he was finished cumming, but there wasn't any hint of him softening. I sat back on my haunches letting the excess cum drip off my face wondering what was to happen next.