tagInterracial LoveSeven Hundred & Eleven Cigarettes

Seven Hundred & Eleven Cigarettes


It was Friday night, and again no one had asked me out. It was probably my fault. I had stopped going to the local bars, sick of the same old guys drinking the same old drinks and having the same old conversations with them. I'd dated white men all my life, and found them all the same. I'd always wanted to date outside my race, but the fear of what my family and friends might say kept me from reaching out across the color line. At 5'8", I was taller than most women, with dark blonde, shoulder-length hair, nice teardrop-shaped, 38 dd-sized, breasts, and at 31 years old I still felt I looked good. The one thing that had always bothered me was my ass, which was shapely, with wide hips. In other words, there was a little extra junk in my trunk.

Even if I lost a few pounds it wouldn't help my ass. Black and Latin men used to stare at me when I walked by, and it always gave me a rush. It felt good to know that they, at least, appreciated my big butt. When I was among white men, though, I felt self-conscious about it. Every white man I ever slept with informed me that my ass was huge, and that just pissed me off. They'd say thing like "Sweetheart, maybe you should work out and slim down some, maybe tighten up your butt." How those words hurt me. They'd also say things like "You've got an ass like a black girl". It wasn't my fault that God had given me a big ass. Sometimes, after having sex, and when the man had gone, I'd sit in my bed and cry, asking God why he'd punished me with a big butt. I'd beg him to send me just one man who could appreciate my womanly shape. It wasn't that I was fat, or anything like that, just that I was taller and built bigger than most women.

Last week, at the company Christmas party, my world crashed down on me again. There was this guy at my job named John, who was absolutely gorgeous. He worked on the fifth floor of my office building, in the accounting department, and we'd run into each other in the elevator from time to time. John had a great smile and always said hello. I was hoping he'd be at the party so I could speak to him and see if there was any spark between us. The place was crowded and the music real loud. I was heading to the bar to get a drink when I noticed John at the bar, talking to Steve from purchasing. They didn't see me when I sat on the stool directly behind John, who was standing with his back towards me. Like I said, the place was packed, and as it was a Christmas party I was wearing my hair differently from the way I usually do.

I was about to tap him on the shoulder and say hi when I overheard their conversation. They were talking about the women at the party, especially which women in the company they thought they might have a shot at fucking. I heard Steve say to John, " Hey man, how about that girl, Tina, from the help desk?" I thought, "Oh my God, they're talking about me," and got all excited. I really liked this guy and I was about to get an honest answer.

Men lie to your face but they tell their buddies the truth. John said, "Tina from the help desk?…. Yeah, I think she's cute." I was over the moon when I heard him say that, but it was short-lived because he added "but she has a big fucking ass…. man!", and both men started laughing. I was crushed, feeling my stomach twisting and turning as I listened to their laughter. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to leave the party at once, but if I got up they were bound to see me. Then John said, "Yeah, man, I don't want no part of that fat ass. Shit, if I went out with her I'd have to fight every black guy we ran into. I'll bet you a shit load of black guys have already fucked that ass. You know how blacks (he actually used the N word) like big fat butts." I couldn't believe my ears as they erupted into laughter again.

The pain I felt at that moment was the worst ever. I'd thought he was different from most of the other guys I'd dealt with, and was devastated to find myself so horribly mistaken. I blamed myself for putting myself in this situation. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to go home, and by now I didn't care whether or not they saw me. I was getting up from the bar stool when I heard John say to Steve, "Have you seen that fat ass at the party yet?" That's when I turned around and tapped him on the shoulder. Glaring into his eyes I said, "THE FAT ASS IS RIGHT BEHIND YOU." Steve froze when he saw me, and John was also speechless, though his mouth was wide open. I hissed, "The both of you can go FUCK… yourselves! And for your information, DICK HEAD, I have never been with a black man." I wanted him to understand that I'd heard the whole of their conversation.

"Oh Tina, I'm so sorry. I…I…. I…. really didn't mean it." I could tell from John's expression that he was feeling bad. A part of me wanted him to see what damage his words had done to me, but another part didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Grabbing my purse, I headed for the door, which, thank God, was just a few paces from the bar. I kept my head down so that no one else would see my tears and ask me any questions. I cried all the way home. I could barely see the road though my tears. I hated myself; I hated my big ass; and I hated men.

Steve tried to apologize the next day, but I told him to fuck off. I ran into John on the elevator later that afternoon, and with his head bowed he also tried to apologize. I told him to fuck off too, and not to speak to me again or I'd tell his black boss, the head of his department, about his racist views.

Now it was Christmas Eve, and again I was alone. I always hated the holidays, I guess because I never had anyone special to share it with. My family lived a thousand miles away, and I didn't want to go home and hear the same old shit from my parents. Every year they asked if I'd found someone; was there a special man in my life? I didn't want go through that again. I fired up my computer, thinking I'd surf the web for a while, and maybe check out a few chat rooms. I started surfing and clicked on a porno site to check out some pictures of men. Like it always happens my browser went crazy, and all kind of web sites loaded up in it. I was closing the windows that popped up, when one grabbed my attention. " Literotica… Mmm… what's this?" A few clicks later I realized it was an erotic story site. I couldn't believe all the categories of stories they had: Incest, Group sex, Lesbian sex, Romance, Interracial love... For some reason the Interracial love category grabbed me and I clicked on it. There were so many titles I didn't know which story to click on. I live in St Louis now but I'm originally from Long island. I guess that's why I clicked on this story called "A stormy Night In the Bronx". I was expecting to read some smut, but found the story very interesting. I also found that my pussy was becoming wet. It had been a week since I touched my pussy, but as I kept on reading I found myself stroking my pussy through my panties. When I realized what I was doing I laughed out loud. God, it felt good to laugh again. It was the first time since the party that I'd cracked a smile. I'd never have believed that reading a story could get me all hot and moist. I said to myself "fuck it," turned off the lights in my bedroom, removed my panties and sat down in front of the computer.

With one hand on my mouse and the other on my pussy I continued reading the story. When the black man in the story started fucking his girlfriend's co-worker I found my hand massaging my clit. The black man really turned me on. The way he enjoyed that woman's fat ass, the sensitive way he handled her, his appreciation of her body, all moved me. He really loved that big thick butt. I was lost in the story, and soon had two fingers buried in my soaking cunt. The author of the story made me feel like I was in the room with them.

His words painted such a vivid picture that sometimes I closed my eyes and could imagine that big black cock sinking into my pussy. It was the first time in my life I'd ever fantasized about a black man fucking me, and I wondered what it would really be like to watch a big black cock pistoning in and out of my cunt. It both frightened and excited me. You could have lit a match on my pussy, that's how hot I was. And when the black man in the story started to cum I came with him. My pussy collapsed around the two fingers that were in my cunt, and a slow long orgasm purred through my groin. " Oohhhh…God!" I moaned. It was the first time I had cum in months. When I caught my breath at last and looked down between my legs at my hand, I couldn't believe how much pussy juice there was on it.

" HOLY SHIT!" I said out loud and started to laugh. I'd never have thought it possible to get off just from reading. I finished the story, then thought to myself how I wished I had a man that could love my body the way it was. I wondered, would I fuck a black man if I could do it without anybody finding out? Fuck, yes! Half joking, I looked up to the ceiling in my bedroom and said: "God, you haven't been very nice to me lately. Do you think you could send me a black man to love me and my fat ass? As usual there was no answer from the man upstairs, so I just laughed it off. It was good to laugh. It made me feel normal again. I chuckled again, saying "Well, I guess it's me and literotica tonight."

I felt like I had just had sex, so I reached for my pack of cigarettes, "Awwhhh… Fuck!" The pack was empty. It promised to be a long night, and no way in hell could I sit it out in this apartment without cigarettes. I knew there was something I'd forgotten to do before coming home. I go through this all the time. Each time it happens I decide to quit smoking, and then five minutes later I'm in my car, on the way to the Seven Eleven. That night was no different. It was around 11:30 and I knew the store, which was only about 2 blocks away, would still be open. I threw on a T- shirt and a short skirt, then a short light jacket since it wasn't that cold.

I didn't even bother to put on panties since I intended to be back home in a flash, and in any case I was feeling sexy. Plus the cool night air might feel good on my bare ass, and I was only going to get some smokes. Then off I went on another cigarette run. Arriving at the Seven Eleven, I was surprised to find the parking lot full. I guess it was because it was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow being Christmas Day it was the only place open in the neighborhood. I wasn't about to park down the block. At the side, and towards the rear of the store, where they kept two big garbage dumpsters, I found a little space, just big enough to fit my car into. During the daytime that area looked normal, but at night it was dark and scary. It was so dark you couldn't even see the woods behind. However, I was in a rush, and didn't want anyone else to take the space. I wanted to get back to my computer and read some more of the stories on that literotica site. I parked my car between the dumpster and the store, then cut off the engine and the headlights. Only then did I realize quite how dark it was. I got out of the car and locked the door, then walked quickly back maybe 20 or so feet and around the corner of the building to the front entrance of the store.

Inside you would have thought it was the end of the world, with about 15 customers buying up everything in sight, from beer and soda to bread and milk. The line was a long one, and I was at the end of it. I felt really pissed off. "All this bullshit for a pack of smokes!" I grumbled to myself.. "That's it! This will be my last pack of smokes." I knew deep down, though, that it was a lie. Now all I wanted was a pack of smokes and to get the hell out of there. When at last I made it to the front of the store the guy at the register didn't even need to ask what I wanted.

He'd been working the late shift at the Seven Eleven for the past 2 years and knew what I was there for. He reached up and pulled my brand of smokes and put it on the counter. I had the right money with me and put it on the counter. Coming out of the store, I found the scene totally changed. When I arrived, the parking lot had been packed, but now it was empty and silent. It was about 12:05 am, official Christmas. When I turned the corner it was pitch black, and I could barely see my car. I felt a little afraid, but then I thought, "What the fuck am I afraid of? Jesus Christ! 31 years old and still afraid of the fucking dark!"

I smiled to myself as I tried to unlock the car door. The only sound to be heard was that of my keys jiggling. It was a moment before I realized I was using the wrong key. When I managed to find the right key, and it went in the keyhole, I felt relieved, but as I turned the key someone, or something, grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream, but a giant paw clamped over my mouth and prevented me. "Mmm…Mmm…Mmm." I was scared and couldn't breathe. I felt a powerful arm wrap around my waist and lift me about 6 inches into the air, carrying me backwards toward the rear of the store. Oh… my…. God, I thought, what's happening to me? I tried desperately to free myself from the giant's grip, but his arms were like steel, and his grip far too strong for me to break. I felt huge biceps pressing into my ribcage. "Shut up, lady, and stop moving around." He spoke very slowly, and his voice was chilling. I continued to struggle to get free until I heard the words: " I have a gun," and then I froze on the spot, rigid with terror.

It was pitch black, and I couldn't see a thing. The man in the darkness relaxed his hands a little to allow me to breathe, and I quickly filled my lungs with air. I was afraid I would pass out. He pressed my body hard against the wall and I felt the cold bricks of the Seven Eleven building scrape against my right cheek. In the same chilling tone as before the man in the darkness said, "I'm taking my hand from your mouth now, but if you make one sound, lady, your life will end tonight… Just do as I say, and I promise not to hurt you…Do we have an understanding?"

I was terrified. I couldn't see anything, but I knew that there was a large man behind me, with a gun. He tightened his grip around my waist and repeated, "Well, do we have an understanding, lady?" I nodded dumbly. The last thing I wanted was to make him angry. I was trembling from fear. It was as if all my childhood fears of the dark had materialized at the same time.

"I'm warning you, lady," he repeated. "When I move my hand… not one peep." His tone hadn't changed. He slowly took his hand away from my mouth, and I immediately started to beg for my life.

"Please, mister. Please… I beg of you. …Please sir, let me go. I don't have any money on me. I just came out for a pack of cigarettes." The result of my pleading was that he put his hand back over my mouth, but this time he was gentle, and he whispered in my ear: "Shhhhhhhh." He chuckled quietly for a second, then said: "You white people are all the same when you're afraid of a black man. All of a sudden you get polite, and start saying things like mister and sir. It was only then that I realized that the man behind me was a black man.

With my body pressed firmly against the wall, my whole life flashed before me. "God, why are you doing this to me?" I thought. When the black man found that I was telling the truth about not having any money he would surely kill me. "Put your hands high against the wall, lady, and spread your legs."

My one hope was that if I cooperated with the man he might find some compassion in him and let me live. When I put my hands on the wall I realized I was still clutching the pack of cigarettes. I stared at my hand. Though I couldn't see it I knew it was the tiny box that it held that had brought me to this sorry pass. It was my addiction to nicotine that had brought me out on this night. With my hands high against the wall I prayed that all this would be over soon. The dark man started to frisk me as if I was some kind of criminal. Using both his hands, he started on my wrist and worked his way down my arms over my jacket. His movements were slow and deliberate.

"Pleeeease, mister, I swear I don't have any money," I whispered. He didn't answer, but continued to search me. I felt powerful hands on my shoulders which then moved down my back and around to my stomach. I was scared to death. I knew there was no money in my pockets, and I was afraid he would kill me if he didn't find any. This is it, I thought, my time to die. He dipped his hands into the pockets of my jacket and froze. It was then I felt the first teardrop course down my cheek.

I accepted my fate, said a quick prayer to God, and asked him to forgive my sins and to watch over my family. But just as slowly as he'd put his hands in my pockets, the man slowly pulled them out and continued to frisk me. Very slowly he worked his big powerful hands down my body. I flinched when they reached my hips. Again I pleaded with the unseen presence behind me: "Oh… pleeeeasee, mister, can I go now. I really don't have any money. Please let me go. and.. and… I promise I won't report this… I swear," I whispered desperately into the night.

There was no immediate answer to my appeal. The tears started flowing from my eyes and I began to sob. "Shhhhhhhhh," came the voice from the darkness, and I shut up immediately. The hands moved further down my body, stopping a moment at my curvy hips, and then moving towards each other until they were resting on my ass. Throughout my ordeal I hadn't given a thought to the fact that I wasn't wearing underwear. Now, with these giant hands, the man gently palmed my ass cheeks. Never in my life had I felt such large hands on my ass.

Before I could take another breath the hands continued down my body. When they slipped past the material of my short skirt, I felt what I hadn't expected, that the giant hands were actually soft and very hot, and their heat was warming my shivering, frightened body. I was still confused and nervous, and in the darkness I started to panic. I began to wonder if maybe I should make a run for it, but before I'd even finished the thought I felt him get up behind me and push me into the wall. He wrapped his hand around my stomach and pulled me into his warm body. "Oh please can I go now?" I whimpered. I felt his breath on my ear. "Shhhhhh now. Stop crying, my dear… I'm not going to hurt you." Still crying, I replied: "Please sir, I just want to go home. I promise… I promise I won't say anything."

If he could just see my eyes, I thought, he'd know I was sincere, but in the darkness all he could hear was the pleading of a terrified woman. "You listen to me…. and listen good, and I promise I wont hurt you, ok? This is what you have to do…. Answer all my questions… and answer them honestly. Lie to me and I'll get angry. Tell the truth and you'll soon find yourself at home again." His manner was kind, and I believed he was telling the truth. Anyway, what other choice did I have?

I felt his warm breath on my ear lobes. " What's your name, young lady?" I thought I'd better not lie, so I said, " My… My …name is Tina." When he heard my answer his grip slackened around my waist, slightly easing my fears. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Honesty will get you through this, baby." I stopped crying and tried to concentrate on his voice. " Well, Tina, it's nice to meet you, though in the circumstances you'll understand if I don't introduce myself."

He paused a moment before continuing: "Why did you leave your house tonight?" For a moment my situation didn't seem quite so precarious. All this time I'd been thinking of him as some kind of street thug, but his words were soft and he spoke clearly. I answered his question as politely as I could. "I came out to get a pack of cigarettes…sir." Suddenly I wasn't as frightened as I had been before. I felt his hand starting to rub my stomach and somehow I didn't mind. "You're doing real well, Tina. Just answer a few more questions and I'll let you go."

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byblackzilla99© 4 comments/ 67778 views/ 5 favorites

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