Fetish
2006-08-13

The final thing you should know is that I’m a very intelligent person. I don’t mean to brag here or anything of the sort, but it’s a necessary fact that you need to know in order to understand my story. To be honest, I hate to even reveal that to you, because I’m a very humble person. In any case, it was my intelligence that was probably most responsible for my isolation from other African-Americans in this town. While other black guys my age were playing basketball, football and baseball, I was in my room reading the classics, science fiction, and studying encyclopedias. By the time high school came around, every black guy I knew was playing sports – I was in the band. I suppose the irony of it all was that I was built to be a linebacker. When I entered high school, I was already six-feet tall, 180 pounds, with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. My cousins and uncles used to ridicule me for not playing football. The coach even went so far as to visit my mother at work to beg her to let me play, but she would have none of that. My mother was a registered nurse and was way too overprotective to allow me to play such a “violent” sport, so it was the band for me. As you can guess, it was never easy for me in the sex department. To be honest, I wasn’t all that attracted to the few black women that lived in town and even if I were, they had nothing to do with me. Since I didn’t play sports, didn’t have a cool car, didn’t have money and didn’t have any black friends, I was virtually invisible to them. Unfortunately, that left only white women and that was almost an insurmountable obstacle in that day and age. The prospect of a white chick fucking a black guy was so taboo that the mere hint would force the white parents to yank their little girl out of school and ship her off to a “re-education” center that specialized in straightening out wayward girls.

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   It had already happened to few girls and the rumors of their disgrace had tainted them for all time. Even though I was a pretty formidable looking black guy –- the kind that you probably wouldn’t want to meet on a dark street –- I was already singled-out as a “nerd” to most people. I aced my classes, played in the band, watched Star Trek . . . hell, I even formed the chess club for god sakes. Because of that and the fact that I spoke with more eloquence than any of the white people in town, let alone other blacks, I was pretty much seen as “non-threatening” in the eyes of most good white folks. Probably the most frequent back-handed compliment I received from them was, “Boy, you sure don’t talk like any black person I ever heard. ”Due to this and my affable, easy-going personality, a lot of white chicks (mostly in the band) liked to talk with me. I guess the fact that, in their minds, there was no possible chance in hell of a sexual relationship with me that they could be more at ease with me than with a white guy –- which is probably the same reason why so many straight chicks befriend gay guys. After awhile, I had more white chicks as friends than white guys, which tormented me to no end. I should also tell you that I have this deep, smooth voice that’s similar to Barry White’s, if you know what I mean. So a lot of my conversations with many of the white chicks that called me at night had a way of ending up in either overt phone sex or serious flirtation. Even when the conversation didn’t turn toward sex, I knew that they were fingering themselves underneath the covers. Their breathing would quicken, their pauses would lengthen, and I could hear the soft moans that they tried like hell to cover up.

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   Over time, I grew bolder in my phone play and would ask, “How wet are you right now?” in the deepest, softest voice I could muster. Almost be reflex, even if we had be talking about something totally unrelated, they would tell me how damp their panties were. Some of them would even orgasm before I made my move. I rubbed my cock raw from all the jacking off I did. In a typical week, I was getting off two or three different chicks a night. Naturally, the next day at school it would be as if nothing at all had happened and they would go off with their lily-white boyfriends and all was well with the world, until they got home that night and called me.

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As you can guess, I became frustrated. It wasn’t enough that they fingered themselves to an orgasm by my voice or told me that they imagined fucking my black cock, I wanted the real thing. So after they got themselves off to my voice, I started to ask them one by one, “Why can’t we do this for real?”I was met by the same reaction each time:“Are you kidding? My parents would kill me!” said Rhonda, a redhead with big tits and an even bigger ass. A girl that allowed her last boyfriend’s dog to lick her pussy -- a boyfriend who was a 44-year-old perennial jailbird that preyed on young high school girls. “Ohmygod! We can’t do it for real . . . you’re a black guy!” said Kori, a girl who looked exactly like Kati Holmes way before anyone had ever heard of Dawson’s Creek. And this was a girl that let her current boyfriend videotape her while his boys ran a train on her.

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   “I can’t. If anyone found out it’d ruin my reputation,” said Lisa. A girl who’s uncle had been sexually molesting her for years and never said anything because she was too ashamed to open her mouth. I could go on, but you get the idea. The same chicks would do or say any nasty, perverted thing that came in their empty little heads over the phone, wouldn’t so much as let me cop a feel in real life. As a result, the nice easy going guy that I was began to change. I resented these hypocritical bitches, I resented the society that forced me into a life of masturbation and I resented myself for being born black. I hated everything and everybody, which turned me to the dark side. As I said earlier, I am a very intelligent guy. If I had lived anywhere else, I would have skipped several grades, since my I. Q. was in the genius range. As things stood, however, this was the Deep South, I was a black kid in a mostly white town and black people weren’t supposed to be smarter than white people. Since I was a fairly good chess player, I started to see my situation as a complex game . .

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   . could I use my brains to fuck white chicks?My first strategy involved my best friend Randy -- without his knowledge. Randy was one of those white kids that came from a well-to-do family, was very open-minded (he was my best friend after all), had a big mouth and was fairly dumb. I invited him over my house one night to watch one of the porno channels that we had on satellite. I made sure that I wore jogging pants and halfway through the movie, I excused myself and went to the kitchen. I went into one of cabinets that had a huge tube of summer sausage and stuffed it in my pants. After awhile, I told Randy that the movie was making me kinda hard, at which point he glanced at my crotch and saw a 18-inch bulge in my pants. “Oh shit dude, you’re fucking packin!” he said in astonishment. I glanced at him and pretended to be ignorant. After a moment, I looked down, readjusted my package and grinned. “Oops, sorry about that,” I said. “Damn, you must be friggin’ huge under there,” he said, still staring at my crotch. “Well, I am black,” I countered. “Some stereotypes happen to bes true. ”As expected, word of my huge ass cock had spread through school like wildfire.

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   I even had teachers glancing down at my crotch. After a week, I had white chicks that I didn’t even know calling me. Some of them told me who they were and some wouldn’t, but all of them would eventually get around to asking me if I was as huge as they heard. The chicks who were calling me before my plan were calling more and were starting to get pissed when they couldn’t reach me. I wasn’t just some guy that they called up at their convenience any more, I was someone that other chicks –- especially the white chicks –- wanted to fuck, if only for curiosity’s sake. I suppose I could have ended it there and probably could have fucked at least one of these chicks simply because I was the flavor of the month. But that wasn’t good enough for me. I wanted those hypocritical bitches to pay for making me feel so shitty in the first place. I wanted to make them pay for using me as a tool to get off to and I wanted to make them pay for me hating the fact that I was born black and not white. I picked Rhonda first, because she was the one that pissed me off the most. That bitch would let her ex-con boyfriend’s dog lick her pussy, but wouldn’t so much as fart around me. I also picked her first, because I always had a thing for redheads and (like all black guys) I have a thing for big butts. When she called that night, I had everything set up. I knew there was some reason why I never threw away that old antiquated answering machine that my mom had bought years ago, I must have known that it would come in handy someday. Unlike today’s digital recorders and the ones with micro-cassettes, this one used a full-sized cassette.

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   I plugged it into the empty phone jack and waited for the call. Like clockwork, she called at 9 p. m. and, as I had hoped, she was even raunchier than normal. I had her moaning, grunting, panting and begging for my black cock. For good measure I even had her recount the story of the dog licking her pussy and at the end, I asked her if she would let me tap that ass for real. She paused and seemed to actually think about it for a moment. Undoubtedly, she had heard the rumors of my massive cock and wanted to see it for herself. When she said that she couldn’t –- as I knew that she would –- I laughed, popped the tape in my boom box and pushed rewind. It started to play right at the section where she started talking about the dog licking her pussy. She was speechless. I told her that she was going to fuck me as much and as often as I wanted, or I was going to do the unthinkable –- I was going to play the tape for Randy. If you can believe it, the fucking bitch started to cry. “I can’t believe you’re doing this!” she sobbed, “I thought we were friends. ”I became angry.

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  “Friends! You’ll let a fucking dog lick your pussy but not me. Do you know how fucking insulting that is! You think more of a goddamn dog than me! Now you’re gonna be my dog, you fucking bitch. ”I told her that she going to Pizza Hut after the Friday night game and to tell her parents that she was spending the night with Kori. Since Kori was every bit the nasty slut as she was, I had Rhonda make up a cover story for Kori –- that her dumbass boyfriend was going back to jail and she wanted to spend one last night with him. I told her that she was to stay at Pizza Hut until I came, at which point she was to leave and sneak into the backseat of my car. I suppose that I could have left immediately after Rhonda and no one would have been the wiser, but I wanted the bitch to suffer. I stayed inside for over an hour, shared a pizza with some friends and played video games. When I finally got to the car, she was crouched underneath a pile of my sweaty band clothes –- more terrified that I had said something to someone than what I was going to do to her. “Of course I didn’t say anything,” I said pulling out of the parking lot. “Why would I give up the only card I have . . . that wouldn’t be smart, would it?”“No, I guess not,” she replied. “As long as I get to fuck you when I want, no one will ever find out that you’re a fucking skank that likes bestiality and talking dirty to niggers. ”“I never called you that,” she protested.

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  “Really? So why are you hiding in the backseat? Isn’t it because you’re afraid that someone might see you in my car?”“That’s different,” she said. “Society. . . . ”“Fuck society and fuck you!” I cut in. “You fucking hypocrite . . . you’ll let a puppy lick your pussy and society doesn’t look too good at that. Not to mention the fact that your goddamned boyfriend has been in prison longer than you’ve been alive”Whether it was the fact that I was making sense or she simply didn’t want to piss me off anymore, she stopped talking. After we passed through town, I told her to climb over and sit in the front. I glanced over and saw that she was wearing a mini-skirt. The stupid bitch knew I was going to fuck the shit out of her and still dressed up. I could even smell perfume on her.

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   Bitches are so weird, I thought to myself. When we passed the bridge and was safely out of town, she asked me where we were going. “I reserved a room at a motel in Adamsville,” I answered. “We can’t have anyone finding out about us can we. ”To my surprise, she smiled. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that she had probably always wanted to fuck me, but was afraid of being discovered. She must have realized that my blackmail plan also ensured my silence and she began to slide her hand on my knee. I quickly pushed her hand away. “No, you lost your chance for that,” I said. “You’re here for my pleasure not yours. When we’re alone you’re to do what I say, when I say it. When we’re out there, you can pretend we’re friends, we’re enemies or you can ignore me altogether, I don’t really give a shit, but when we’re alone, you’re mine . . . understood?”She nodded.

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  After a moment, I slid my hand under her legs and felt her panties. They were soaked. “Take off your panties,” I said. “I want to smell them. ”Rhonda glanced at me for a moment and slowly began to reach inside her skirt. When she handed me her panties, I could see the humiliation all over her face. It turned me on even more. I put the panties to my face and inhaled deeply. It was warm and musky . . . not nearly as sweet as I had imagined in my dreams. I looked at her and licked the crotch. She grinned. “Tell me that you want my big black cock, bitch.

 

  ”“I do,” she answered. “Tell me,” I ordered. “I want your big black cock,” she said. “And what else?”“I want your big black cock to stretch my little white pussy,” she said. By the time we reached the motel, I was already so hard that I could barely walk. When we reached the room, Rhonda immediately began to walk toward the bathroom. “Where are you going?” I demanded. “I have to use the bathroom,” she said. “I was waiting for you for a long time. ”“You can use the bathroom whenever you want,” I said. “As long as I get to watch. ”She looked at me with utter horror. “No, you can’t. . .

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  . ”“Yes you can and you will,” I ordered. “Let’s go. ”As we walked into the bathroom, I sat on the edge of the tub and looked up. Rhonda was shaking like a leaf. “Pretend like I’m not even here,” I said. “Do what you normally do. ”After a moment, Rhonda unzipped her mini-skirt and I finally saw what I had been lusting after for so long. Her skin was white as snow and red freckles ran down her legs. She quickly sat her fat ass down and quickly crossed her legs. “Open up,” I said. “Surely you don’t piss with your legs crossed. ”She slowly began to open her legs, revealing a thick red bush. When I heard the first stream hit the tank, I unzipped my pants. Rhonda glanced at me in utter shock.

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  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Shut the fuck up and turn your head,” I ordered. “If I see you even glance at my cock I’m going to give that tape to Randy tonight. ”She was so scared that she didn’t even question my orders. I took off my pants and underwear and sat down on the tub again. My cock had never been so stiff in my life. When I heard the last few drops, she slowly raised her hand. “Go ahead,” I said. “I’m not finished yet and I really don’t think I can finish with you here,” Rhonda mumbled. “You’re gonna have to,” I replied, “because we’re gonna be here for awhile. ” “Please,” she begged. “I’ll do whatever you want for a little privacy. ”I laughed. “You’re gonna do whatever I want regardless. What’s the matter, you don’t think I know that your shit stinks like everybody else’s?”“I just don’t want you to be here .

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   . . it’s humiliating. ”I began rubbing on my cock. “Turn around,” I said. When she turned her head, she saw the biggest, thickest cock she had ever seen in her life. Not quite the 18-inches that she had heard about, but 18-inches of black cock all the same. She started to gasp. “It’s so big,” she whimpered. “I want you to take a shit,” I said. “I wanna smell how nasty that fat ass of yours can get. ”As I started to pound my cock, Rhonda let out one of loudest farts I had ever heard. I closed my eyes and took a deep whiff. For some reason, I was always under the impression that girl farts smelled better than guy farts –- how wrong I was. The stench was so bad that it made my eyes water.

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   As I grunted, I heard loud plop hit the toilet water and I opened my eyes. Rhonda jumped off the toilet and bent down between my knees. She pushed my hand away and sunk her mouth on my cock. It was like she was unconscious. Rhonda began choking on my cock and didn’t even think about pulling it out. It was the most incredible thing I had ever felt in my life and I grabbed onto the back of her head for dear life. It wasn’t until I filled her mouth with cum that she finally pulled my cock out. Her chin was covered in cum. I stared at the chunk of shit that was floating in the bowel and grinned. “Stick your hand it there and pick up your shit,” I ordered. She moved on impulse. It was until then that I truly realized that I could make her do anything I wanted and was just perverted enough to try anything. TO BE CONTINUED.