Kristen Gets Blacked Ch. 05

Kristen for her part listened carefully, her brow knit in concern for the man of her life...fat Leroy Horton, school janitor.

“He comin’ over soon to discuss it and...” just as Leroy was leading up to the proposition the doorbell rang.

Reverend Richardson was in the closet, eye and hand twitching away as he eyeballed both his daughter and the huge janitor’s dick. In his agony, he had no idea where this was all leading. He knew by now that he should have already rushed out of the closet to protect his ‘chaste’ flesh and blood, but his concern for his reputation, his image, and the leadership of his congregation froze his will in place—at the peephole of his daughter’s bedroom closet.

The next thing Reverend Richardson knew was that Leroy Horton and his gorgeous daughter were re-entering the room with a new player. The man was black and even older than the janitor.

Hollis Brown had a bag of liquor in his arm. His eyes were glued to the girl’s naked ass. Hollis had no clue who the girl would be, but he couldn’t have been more pleasantly shocked than to see it was the town’s most gorgeous white teen, the girl he’d been staring down for the last two years at the liquor store: Reverend Richardson’s, incredibly built, teenage daughter.

The look on Hollis’ face was serious and mean. It was the same look Kristen had seen from behind the plate glass window at the liquor store, as Hollis’ eyes would follow her back to the car she was leaving in.

In Hollis’ heart—and loins—the heat for white women was mixed with anger. White society had dangled these gorgeous creatures before him for over 70 years. Now he wanted what was his—a fully conquered, fully spread, blonde, Caucasian goddess...broken to his will.

“Dis da’ man I owe ‘da money to, babe,” Leroy said to Kristen, continuing his con of the girl.

Hollis played along, still staring intently at the white beauty before him.

“How can I help,” Kristen asked softly, frightened for her future husband’s safety.

As she looked back and forth between the two old, black men, the room went silent.

“Well...uhhh...” Leroy searched for the words to offer up the ploy, as he stared down at the floor. Even Leroy was a little intimidated as to how to offer the girl such an outrageous proposition.

In the silence of the room, the intent of Hollis’ arrival began to dawn on Kristen. She knew how the old Black had stared at her in the liquor store. She thought maybe he’d won the card game just to get at her. Her mind was jumbled and confused with feelings of shock, outrage, and...and some strange sense of sexual excitement. She had been a prize that had been won, something of great value that these two aging, black bulls were willing to do violence over...

Without any words, Hollis began to remove his clothing. The mean evil look remained on his face.

Hollis Brown’s past was mysterious. Leroy remembered that in the early sixties his cousin had left town to embark on a career. He’d wound up in South Dakota of all places and apparently had a family with five or six children.

Something went terribly wrong on the South Dakota farm he was trying to raise the family on. They’d fallen on hard times—very hard times—and there was a tragedy. No one thereafter would speak of it. Hollis served time and didn’t arrive back in town for 20 years.

Those hard times showed all over the deep lines on Hollis Brown’s 72-year-old face. Soon Hollis was down to his old, soiled boxers. As he pulled them down he revealed an enormous dick that stood straight out from his loins, every inch Leroy’s equal.

“My God are all black men so big,” Kristen’s mind reeled, as she stared at Hollis’ ebony weapon.

A few feet away in the confines of the closet, the twitching, town Minister was echoing his daughter’s thoughts, as he watched another over-endowed, old Black undressing himself in his cherished daughter’s bedroom, preparing to fuck her.

“God save her!!!” the craven and horny, Man-of-God beseeched his lord, wordlessly.

Leroy rubbed Kristen’s leg, and looking into her eyes he could see his scheme was working. As Leroy looked over at Kristen, he could see she was staring at Hollis’ big dick, which had now bobbed and throbbed its way into a full-blown 11” erection.

Hollis’ dick was tall and, next to his thin frame, appeared incredibly fat besides.

Kristen was becoming more convinced in the recesses of her mind that her life—and womb—was to be dedicated to the power and vitality possessed by the loins of old, black men.

Leroy got up and opened the bag of liquor, took a swig from the bottle of gin. He passed it to Hollis who also took a swig. Hollis offered it to the girl, but Kristen took a pass after sniffing the vile bottle.

“She thirsty...but not for gin,” Leroy chuckled to Hollis, while Kristen continued staring at Hollis’ rampant cudgel.

“Baby, maybe you like the cider I brought ya’,” Hollis said grimly. He then lifted a bottle of apple-cider from the bag.

The ancient black then twisted the cap off and offered it to the naked girl. Kristen took a sip. Then another, and another. She liked the taste. It made her feel relaxed and loose.

“Well, let me step out and give you two a chance ta’ talk,” Leroy said, winking at Hollis.

With that, Leroy exited the room, leaving the Negroid Hollis Brown, 72 year old, liquor store employee, and the Caucasian Kristen Richardson, the teenager who was the local high school’s prettiest student, alone together.

“Please, dear God, give her the strength to refuse him,” the holy peeper, Reverend Richardson, prayed to his lord from his hiding spot within his daughter’s closet.

Hollis Brown sat along side Kristen on her bed. As he did, his tall, thin frame slouched somewhat in the sitting position due to his advanced years. But it made his enormous dick seem that much the larger. The ebony lance seemed to project clear up to the old, Black’s chest cavity.

Kristen couldn’t help but stare at the monstrous scabbard with which she knew the old man was preparing to penetrate her. It wasn’t lost on Hollis. He could see the girl was fascinated with his anatomical gift.

From his hiding place, Reverend Richardson could see the old man and his daughter speaking softly to one another. Although he couldn’t make out what they were saying, it appeared they were engaged in the small talk that young lovers often use as a sort of verbal foreplay to sex.

As the ancient Black would whisper something to the girl, she’d turn from shyly staring at the floor to looking momentarily into his eyes, then averting them again to the floor. Sometimes as she spoke, the young blonde would look at the old man’s dick, almost as if speaking to it rather than him.

In time it was as if there were three members in the intimate conversation: Kristen, Hollis, and Hollis’ huge, throbbing cock. The old cock appeared at times to be drooling in response to Kristen as she spoke to it.

As the soft conversation drew on, Hollis grew more confident with the girl. Using many of the moves he’d used on black girls fifty years before, he stroked Kristen’s hair as he spoke to her. As his hand stroked her hair, he let it run down a strand, over her shoulder, and along her breast. The old black would then casually reach down and tenderly begin to play with the blonde high schooler’s nipple, gently tweaking it and even pulling on it lightly. The girl didn’t offer any objection to the old, black man’s tit-play.

In the closet, tears were forming in the Minister’s eyes. It was hard for the pious Reverend to discern whether he felt a father’s pain—or jealousy.

Hollis then reclined onto his elbows letting his huge, coal-black member loom out over his torso, throbbing and drooling, as it displayed itself to the admiring blonde girl.

The Reverend was forced to watch as his darling, blue-eyed daughter began to casually recline onto one elbow, turning herself toward the old man and begin to rub her hand along his thigh. Kristen was now assuming the role of aggressor and, in her heat, she leisurely let her hand fall to the geriatric’s inner thigh and then drift upward, cupping the old, black balls of Hollis Brown.

As the strange couple continued chatting, the girl began fondling the old, semen filled balls of the man who at one time leered at her. Now it was Kristen Richardson turned pursuer, casually rolling the huge testes of Hollis Brown’s through her fingers. She was tickling, jiggling, and, occasionally, softly milking the big horse-balls of the old man.

Hollis was in heaven. He now reclined fully, hands cradled behind his head, letting the white teenager do the work. Kristen was now putting the moves on his old black bod, to his delight.

Reverend Richardson, tears rolling down his face, was now cursing his God:

“Why do you torment me so? I would prefer to be covered with boils from head to toe than to witness this...why, why, why?”

Occasionally, Kristen would let go of Hollis’ balls and reach up, touch the tip of his drooling dick, dabbing the viscous precum oozing there, and then pop the finger into her mouth, sucking from it the precious juice that the old Black secreted for her waiting tongue.

“He tastes so good,” Kristen thought. The big-titted, white teen concluded there and then that all black men must taste so good.

Finally, old Hollis Brown could take no more of the gentle prelims the white teen offered him.

Wordlessly Hollis got up from the reclining position and Kristen, reading his desires, began to position herself on the bed, leaning back and spreading her young, white thighs for him. Kristen Richardson was hungry now too...hungry for the aged, bucking loins of a 70 year-old, black man.

Hollis slowly positioned himself on top of the girl, his huge, black lance waggling over her young, white—and ready—body.

“No—dear God—not this again...pllleeaassee,” the Reverend’s mind was screeching, all while his face twitched madly.

Then the Minister witnessed his daughter’s pristine, white, delicate fingers grasp the huge, frothing, black dick and position it to her moist vaginal lips, aiding and abetting her own penetration.

As the fat knob of Hollis Brown’s dick began to push against the girl’s waiting lips, the soft, fleshy gateway parted readily, affording the old organ easy entry to her hungry channel.

The Reverend moaned in agony as he watched another old Black take and mount his daughter with ease.

Old Hollis Brown began to stroke his long, black dick into the teenage pussy that Kristen Richardson willingly offered the 70-year-old man. From the Reverend’s view in the closet, he could see his daughter’s white, sticky secretions lubricating the old man’s dick, facilitating his further pummeling of her womb.

Then Hollis got his arms under Kristen’s legs and bent her back, pinning her knees to her shoulders, and opening her up to him completely.

Reverend Richardson felt a whirlwind of pain and emotion within him as he watched on helplessly.

Kristen brought her legs up higher between her and her aged lover, wrapping her ankles behind Hollis Brown’s neck. This created a tighter, more pleasurable fit for the old man. Since Leroy had broken her open so many times in the previous weeks, she was no longer the tight fit she once was. The girl had been re-sized by her black sexing to fit the gargantuan needs of black men only.

Hollis began to ride the girl ferociously. He felt himself a valiant Black Knight posting on his broken white mare. In his mind Kristen now represented all the white women who had ever snubbed him. Like a vengeful Black Knight he drove his lance deeper and deeper into his oppressor—Kristen Richardson’s perfect, white flesh.

After nearly 15 minutes of banging his loins into the moaning and grunting girl, Hollis let loose a torrent of frustration, lust, and love. He felt seventy years of suppressed longing flood from his African loins into Kristen Richardson’s open and willing, Caucasian womb.

Hollis Brown had found his Holy Grail and he had now filled the pristine, white chalice to over flowing...with his potent, African seed.

“Yesss...yess...oh God...yesss...” the white girl moaned as she quivered in orgasm beneath her black conqueror.

This would be a common scenario for the rest of Kristen Richardson’s life: her submissive, white body writhing in ecstasy under the powerful, pounding loins of an African lover.

The Reverend was now using Kristen’s panties to dry his thighs of the sticky discharge that witnessing her intercourse had caused. The Reverend twitched and teared up as he watched his daughter cradle the old, black man’s hips with her open and loving, white thighs.

As the sun sank in the West, Willie Smith could see a lumbering figure coming up the Richardson’s front stairs with flowers in its hands. This would be the third black man entering the house and Willie knew things might be getting out of hand.

In his loins, Willie felt desire for the girl too. The gardener could feel his temples pounding. Earlier he had heard the girl cry out in an obvious climax.

Kristen Richardson had flirted with the gardener just days earlier. But Willie had not wanted to betray the trust his true love, Betty Richardson, had placed in him. Up till now he resisted Kristen...the beautiful morsel of white bread within his reach.

Willie stood in the garden and looked up at Kristen Richardson’s window. As it grew chilly in the garden, condensation appeared to fog the windowpane. It must be very hot in the girl’s room, he thought.

As the gardener’s dick hardened, his will weakened.

And it was night.

*****

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