My New Black Friend Takes Advantage

This all started in the late summer of 2020. America's racial reckoning was in full effect and things were pretty heated out there in the world. And our house was no exception. My wife and I have been having arguments over all sorts of things. Both of us were spending a lot of time at home in our apartment, working from home and locked down. The stress was getting to us.

One night her friend was over and we were all having a few drinks. Talk of current events led to discussions about the pandemic, and then racism, and somehow the topic of having black friends and being a good "ally" came up. Long story short, her friend more or less accused me of being racist for not having any black friends, or even black people that I regularly talk to. It's not that I didn't know any black people, it's just that all the black people I knew from college or high school were either no longer around or radio silent. It didn't matter, nor did it seem to make a difference that all three of us having this conversation were very white.

The dynamic felt weird for a bit, but after a little while it seemed back to normal. The night went on and my wife's friend left after a few more drinks. I had a buzz going and thought I would get ready for bed and crash. I was wrong. As soon as my wife closed the door she turned around and glared at me, her face flush with anger and alcohol.

She told me that she was mortified and berated me, echoing some of the things her friend said earlier. I was hurt and insulted. I wasn't racist, and I thought she knew this. We argued for a bit and she basically told me I needed to make some black friends.

Fast forward a few months and a bunch of white-guilt-ridden Facebook messages to former friends and acquaintances and I have some plans to hang out with a friend from college that recently moved into the downtown area by where we live. His name was Howard and we had a few classes together years back. His new apartment was a few blocks from the bar he suggested, and he recently got divorced from a girl he met after college.

A few hours and a bunch of drinks later, and we are having a great time. We were not close in college but that night we were really getting along and having fun. Howard said he was doing good after the divorce, and was talking up his new bachelor pad in the area. He looked good too, and it was obvious that he kept himself in better shape than I had the past few years.

I ended up sheepishly telling him the reason why I ended up hitting him up. He laughed and shrugged, saying that I wasn't the only one to do this recently. When I asked what he meant he said that a lot of white people sent him messages to be, and he made air quotes, allies, checking in if he was doing ok and the like. Signs of support in these trying times. He then made a joke about the guilty white girls making it easier to go through the divorce. I laughed, but felt a weird pang of sexual jealousy. My wife and I have barely slept together in the past few months.

A bit later he asked if I wanted to go to his place to smoke some weed. I haven't smoked in a long time, but I was pretty drunk and loose at that point. I said yes and we walked the couple of blocks to his place. We stumbled through the small lobby, laughing about something or other, and went up the elevator a few floors. His apartment was a few doors away from the elevator.

It was a nice apartment. Big open floor plan, massive windows, and a new television hung on the wall. He gave me a little tour before sitting down on the couch with me. He put on some internet videos on the TV before excusing himself to use the bathroom and change real quick.

I texted my wife that I would be home late and what was going on. She replied back quick and seemed happy with how my night was going so far. After a few minutes Howard came back out, now wearing gym shorts and a wifebeater tank top, with two beers in one hand and a little box in the other.

He passes me a beer and pulls out some marijuana from the box, quickly and deftly rolling a blunt. He puts it on the table then walks into the kitchen, putting the box down and grabbing an ashtray. In my drunken stupor I watched him walking around. He seemed to be holding his alcohol better than me. I could see his back muscles through the tank top as he walked into the kitchen, and found myself wondering how much he worked out. When he turned around to walk back, I remember thinking that he must have a six pack under there. His arms were huge, way bigger than I remembered. I felt like I was staring, so I quickly turned away and took out my phone, feeling embarrassed and out of shape. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

We smoke a blunt and watch some more videos. Random stuff, from music videos to funny video compilations. I quit about halfway through the blunt. I was feeling pretty messed up.

After a little while it gets quiet and we zone out into our phones. The algorithm is picking out our next video when suddenly it cuts off and is replaced with what I quickly realize is amateur porn, featuring a hung black guy fucking a hot blonde girl from behind.

"Oh shit," Howard laughed, "I didn't mean to do that," he laughed again "My bad."

"What, were you just watching porn on your phone there?" I asked, incredulously.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "So what if I was?" he said, making no effort to stop the video from playing on the big screen TV.

You could hear the girl getting absolutely railed. The slap of his hips on her ass, her moans as he fucked her good. The light from the TV of their ebony and ivory skin illuminated us in the room.

"It's just weird, I guess," I said.

"You don't watch this stuff?" he laughed, "I figured you did. I didn't mean to put it on the TV, for real."

The rhythmic sound of the couple fucking on the screen continued. I felt my face turn red.

"Yeah, but not with other people around," I protested, feeling embarrassed by the whole situation.

He laughed again. You could hear the blond girl moan with pleasure, screaming about big black dick.

"I think you do like what you see," he snickered, "I know I do. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll turn it off. My bad again."

I felt my face go flush. I mumbled something about it being weird. He laughed again and said he guessed I was right.

"Just one second," he said with a smile, "I just want to see the end."

A minute later the guy on the screen pulled out his big black dick and ejaculated on this woman's ass and back. She arched over and shook her butt back and forth while the guy in the video came. His big, thick black dick shot out a few loads before he grabbed it by the base and slapped it against her cheeks. I stared at the screen. I felt like I couldn't help myself. Then the next video autoplayed. This time with a brunette.

"I thought you were going to turn this off," I whined, "Maybe I should get going."

"It's alright man," he said while he sparked back up the half of a blunt that was in the ashtray. "A lot of people like this," he gestured at the screen. "Black guys, white guys, white girls, I dunno... But I didn't mean to put it on the TV. Let me turn it off."

"You keep saying that," I mumbled. The girl on the screen was on her knees, two white hands around a massive ebony dick, slurping and gagging on it.

"Sorry, but I do like what I see here," he laughed again, "I'm not that into blondes. Besides, its good racial harmony, you know? Moving forward. Together." The girl on the screen gagged, loudly. "I know you like black dicks in white chicks. I can tell. We all do. It's good to see, right?"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean, I do, but..." I stammered, face feeling redder than ever, "It's just with somebody here and..." I trailed off.

"I'll turn it off in a minute, this only has like ninety seconds left," he said with a smile. "I think this girl's hot. After this I'm done, I swear."

I just nodded, trying but failing to ignore the screen. We both watched until the end. In this one the guy came all over the girl's face. His black dick looking huge against the actress's pale skin and pink lips. I felt the blood rush to my groin area and my own dick start to rise. Thankfully, after that video he did switch back. I felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

"I fucking love that," he said, "Busting a nut on a white girl's face. You know what I mean?" he asked.

I smiled and nodded. I didn't know what to say to that. I don't think a girl ever let me cum on her face like that.

He got up to grab two more beers. When he walked past me to go to the kitchen, his waist was at my eye level and I this time I could absolutely make out the outline of his dick against the thin fabric of his shorts. It looked huge. I told myself that it was just a little chubbed up from the porn and tried not to think about it. But it made me feel a little weird, insecure and emasculated.

When he came back I tried not to look in his direction, but when he sat down my eyes immediately noticed that same outline in my peripheral. Pressed up against his thigh and the shorts was a monster dick. He passed me the beer and looked me in the eye.

"So people been calling you racist eh?" he asked, with a serious affect.

"Yeah," I meekly said, breaking eye contact with him, "I was telling you at the bar. My wife's friend-"

"Yeah I remember," he cut me off, "No black friends. You weren't doing the work or something like that."

"Yeah, something like that," I reply, looking off at the floor away from him.

"Why didn't you just tell them how much you love interracial porn," he laughed.

I said nothing.

"Well, listen," he said, looking right at me, "I can help you with this problem. But can you help me with my problem?"

"What do you mean?" I said, puzzled.

"Well, I got this issue I think you can help me with," he said, shifting his shorts around and gently rubbing his crotch area.

"Wait, what?" I replied, drunk, confused and not understanding what was about to happen.

"Yeah, you know what happens to a black dick when it needs to get taken care of, don't you white boy?" His change of tone was stark and slightly menacing.

"What do you mean?" I said, feeing more than a little uneasy, thinking he couldn't be saying what I thought he was, "I'm not interested in-"

"Oh come on," he cut me off, "You sure? I thought I saw you looking. I thought you might be interested in really doing the work, if you know what I mean. If I'm wrong I'm wrong, but I don't think I am."

I didn't know what to say and just shook my head.

"Consider it reparations. You can tell your wife and maybe she'll be proud of you. Or maybe not. Maybe she'll be jealous." I didn't like that. "You don't have to tell her. I certainly won't. But if you don't work with me here, I might have to confirm people's thoughts about how you are a closet racist." He was rubbing his dick from outside his shorts, looking me dead in the eyes.

"Wait, what? No!" I protested.

"Yeah, I mean, you don't even have any black friends. And I know you were liking those videos, liked seeing white girls with black guys." He continued, "Tell me. In the last few months, I bet you have seen more black dicks in porn than you have seen black guys in real life.

I didn't have an answer. He was probably right.

"Here you are, partaking in the exploitation of black bodies. How often? For how long? I think you owe it to us, for all of your years of entertainment on our behalf. How many times have you touched your little white dick to it?" he said as he stood up, leering over me. His crotch was once again at my eye level. "After watching all those white girls with big black dicks, didn't you get a little jealous?" He was adjusting the waistband.

I didn't have an answer. I felt like a deer in headlights. Words were escaping me. As he stood in front of me, looking down on me, I sat frozen, almost cowering, on the couch. This couldn't really be happening.

"Listen," he said with a force in his voce, "I am giving you an opportunity here. To help make right hundreds of years of wrongs." He rubbed his hand on his dick from the outside of his shorts again. His bulge was more and more obvious to me every moment. "You know what you have to do, white boy," he said, slowly lowering his shorts.

He wasn't wearing any underwear. A massive black dick unfurled, inches from my face. Huge, it hung well past his big balls, slapping against his thigh as he moved to take his shorts off and then hung low right in front of me. It rocked back and forth pendulously, almost hypnotically. It was enormous. I was completely stunned and shamelessly stared.

"Holy shit," I whispered under my breath, finally finding words. His dick looked bigger soft that mine did hard. I shook my head and looked away, overwhelmed by the situation. I didn't mean to say anything. Strange thoughts and feelings rushed through my head.

"Like what you see?" he asked me, giving his hips a little swivel, shaking his oversized dick from side to side.

I said nothing, and looking away at the floor.

"I know you do," he said, "But I also know you can't admit it. Ever. Your vanilla bitch ass would never admit to your real desires. Hell, you can't even fess up to your interracial porn habits, which everyone has. Probably even your wife."

I looked up at him. He stared me in the eyes and took his tank top off, revealing a six pack chiseled body. Just like I thought. My eyes traced his muscles down his now nude body before I caught myself staring at his dick once more. My mind raced. Part of my brain screamed I should leave while the other part was running amok with all kinds of wild thoughts. I looked away.

"White boys like you," he went on, "Deep down, you all just want what your women want." He laughed. "I don't need to tell you what that is either. I can see it in your eyes."

Suddenly he grabbed me by the back of my head. With one hand in my hair and one on my chin he tilted my head up so I was looking him in the eye again. I put up a token level of struggle. He was much stronger than I was, but was both firm and gentle.

"Calm down. I'm your new black friend, and I am doing you a favor here. You just don't realize it yet."

Without warning he pulled my head forward. Before I knew it, his dick obscured my vision and his balls were filling my up mouth. His cock draped across my entire face, blocking my left eye. I could smell him.

I didn't know what to do. I had never been in a situation like this. I felt frozen by the moment. It was all so unbelievable and out there for me. I sat there on the couch with his dick on my face while he ran his hands through my hair, which did feel nice. It was as if I was outside of my body, watching myself submit to him.

After a few moments my mind turned and I found the wherewithal to push away. "No stop, what are you doing?" I asked meekly, muffled by his manhood..

He laughed.

"Nice delayed reaction," he laughed, "What are you doing pretending you don't like it? You look good with a black dick on your face."

"No, stop, I'm straight," I countered, not coming off as firm as I hoped.

"I'm sure you are," he smirked, "Not that it matters. Here let me show you."

With that he grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to my knees in front of him. He felt so strong. I tried to resist at first but quickly gave up. Once he had me on my knees I didn't dare move. He grabbed my chin and positioned my head forward. All I could see was his black cock and balls hanging low under his neat trimmed pubes and perfect body.

"Take your shirt off." he commanded. I hesitated for a moment, then obeyed. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was inching closer and closer in my head to just giving in and readily submitting to all of this this. As soon as my shirt was off he pinched my nipples, both of them, hard, and grabbed my chin again, this time making me look up at his face.

"Listen white boy, this is the superior dick. It's bigger soft like this than your dick is hard, isn't it?" He nodded my head up and down with his hand, like I was his puppet. Not that it mattered. He was right. "I know. It doesn't matter if you are a straight guy or a slutty girl with daddy issues, you white folk just can't help but submit to it. I don't know what it is about a black dick to you white folk. Something on the subconscious level. You'll figure it out one day."

He ran his hands on my shoulder and then took them off my body and backed up a step. I remained there on my knees in front of him, confused and meek.

"Let's cut to the chase," he said. "Suck my dick." He put his hands on his hips, taking a kind of power pose.

I said nothing for several long moments before croaking out a weak "no" and shaking my head. I felt like I couldn't just give in, even if I couldn't get up and leave either.

"Hmm," he mused, laughing a little bit, "That's ok, all bitches need to be broken in a little bit."

I was taken aback by that. But before I could do anything Howard moved forward and grabbed the back of my head. Pulling my forward and pressing my face against the underside of his dick, he gently whispered "open up" as his still limp and thick cock draped across my face once more. I complied. I told myself I had no choice, but deep down I think I wanted to.

He smiled a bit and ran his fingers through my hair. I knelt there, most agape, taking my first willing steps towards sucking my first dick.

My compliance was not rewarded though, at least not immediately. He left me hanging there for a moment, mouth open on my knees like a whore. Then Howard took a step back, grabbed a fistful of my hair with his left hand and the base of his dick with his right hand, and proceeded to slap his big black cock across my white face. It absolutely took me off guard. I felt ready to give in to him, to suck him. But I wasn't ready for this kind of degradation.

Howard's cock made a meaty slapping sound as it smacked off of my cheeks, lips, and forehead. Once again, I meekly tried to get away, closing my eyes and twisting my head, but he held me fast, debasing my face with the hits from his cock. I felt his dick start to get harder and harder as is slapped and rubbed against my face. At this point I realized I was sporting a full on erection. Of a much smaller scale, of course, but rock hard against my jeans. The realization disturbed me.

"Yeah that's about where you belong, isn't it white boy?" he said while slapping his now hard dick against on my cheeks, one side after the other.

I didn't reply. I tried not to think about it, but my dick was rock hard.

He backed away to slowly stroke his fully erect member, giving me a full view of him in all his glory.

"Oh my god," I reflexively whispered under my breath. I felt my cheeks redden and my jaw go slack.

HIs dick looked absurdly big, standing firm at an angle against his chiseled naked body. It was one thing to see a black dick like this in a video, it was a whole different story in person.

"I know how it makes you feel," he said, "Confused. Curious. Disoriented. Turned on. Inferior. It is what it is," he paused, "Now are you going to suck my dick like a good little white boy?"

I was just staring at his dick. It was all too much. I felt like I couldn't take it any more. A long pause ensued.

"No..." I finally found words, "I can't. I'm married. I don't want to. It would be wrong." I felt like I was saying something I was supposed to more than something I believed in that moment.

I felt pathetic, shirtless, frozen there on my knees in front of a rock hard black dick. He was stroking it with his left hand, cupping his balls with his right, and I felt in his thrall.

"I know," he sounded almost sympathetic, "Its new and scary to you. I am here to help you. You white boys think that you are supposed to be on top of the pyramid, when really, your place is here, on your knees for people like me. I am doing you a favor by showing you where you really belong. And I know you are learning. Learning what you like. Learning your place. Listen, others might not be so nice. Right, boy?"