Save the Clinic! Episode 15
Cassandra is ready to negotiate with The Black Power Movement. However, she was told she isn't comfortable enough around black men to be given the privilege to meet with Mr. Akin Kalu, Chairman of the vaulted Movement. This is where JaMarcus stepped in who invited kindly Cassandra to his nightclub to learn a few things about black men. Cassandra will walk in as a happily married, professional woman looking out for a white-owned business. What secrets will she learn inside the Black Fantasies Lounge? Will she keep her loyalties to her profession, marriage, and race?
In its racist age,
the city of White Pine had its peculiar part of town. There you'd find a run down hotel built shortly after prohibition, a seedy adult magazine store, and a liquor store frequented by the downtrodden scraping coins for a lotto ticket. Like much of the city, it was overlooked by its white residents and politicians who represented them. However, newer days came. It wasn't a brighter day but much, much blacker. The Red Light District was re-imagined and developed by forward thinking black entrepreneurs. The district became home to many adult-themed entertainment and written in law exclusive to black-owned businesses. The rightful election of Mayor Sweet reinvigorated the city and the district that was respectfully known as the Black Light District. It was a beacon for black gentleman to feed their desires to be entertained. It was the fruits of a racially harmonious society.
Cassandra stood on the curb holding JaMarcus's business card. Wearing casual, drab clothes and carrying a bag at her side, she stood between the Black Fantasies Fantasies Lounge and its video shoppe next door. It was two in the morning and the district street was busier than Cassandra would have guessed. A frazzled white woman stumbled out of the video shop and bumped into her. The disoriented woman mumbled an apology before wiping her chin. Down the street, near the curb, a couple of prostitutes were laughing it up. Each were trying to seduce the black men who stood in front of them. One of the girls was blonde. The other was raven-haired. Then came the brass band. It was the four of them, four young black men … one with a trumpet, another with a trombone, and a third with a sax. The fourth carried a tuba. They paraded on the other side of the street and played a short marching tune before bellowing out “Black power is here!” The prostitutes paused their seduction and cheered clapping their hands over their heads. Another white woman ran out to give them money and threw a solidarity fist in their honor.
Cassandra was drawn to the lounge by its deep bass booming out from inside its walls … “boom da-da-dun … boom da-da-da-dun ...” Another look at the card didn't change a thing. It was the right address. The dressed down lawyer took a deep breath and thought of it as research. This was a part of her 'job' to navigate the political and cultural hurdles of the black man, of the black community she knew so little of. To speak with The Black Power Movement's leadership, she needed to earn their trust. She had begun to learn how to act like a respectful white woman in a community of interracial utopia ruled by racial activists where black supremacy isn't just discussed by achieved. She just had one more lesson to learn.
The smell inside the room was a vaporous mixture of smoke, liquor, and perfume. The club was dark, only illuminated by small floodlights of blue, red, and orange. Cassandra was greeted at the door by a large, intimidating but sweet talking doorman behind the counter. He grinned, immediately recognizing Cassandra's natural beauty through her otherwise drab clothes.
“You must be Cassie!” said the Goth Girl who rushed up to her from the bar. The Goth Girl was a thin-framed 24 year old with the blackest hair, a nose ring attached to her right nostril, wearing black platform shoes. Her entire outfit was black including a midriff t-shirt that exposed her flat tummy making her breasts poke out of her shirt. A very tight pair of shorts clung to her hips making her ass round and appreciating.
“It's Cassandra.” the lawyer replied in a vain attempt to remain professional and uptight.
“JaMarcus said you'd be coming by. You're right on time, I see. Is that your wardrobe?” Goth Girl asked pointing at Cassandra's bag. After Cassandra nodded, Goth Girl grabbed her by the hand and escorted her to the dressing room. It was then, when around the corner, Cassandra realized she had indeed stepped inside a strip club catered to black gentlemen.
On the center stage, was a light-haired white woman in her mid twenties. She was an attractive woman and very naked but her heels. The dancer leaned against her stripper pole rubbed her hand across her breasts before turning around and bending over giving the black patrons a good look at her shaved, sweet pussy. Aghast, Cassandra turned away but nothing would slow the Goth Girl from pulling her into the dressing room. Instead of looking at the naked dancer she turned to the faces of black men with piercing eyes. With the look of alpha males, they studied their prey looking to satisfy their hunger. Fortunate for Cassandra, the men paid more attention to the naked woman on stage thinking how they would fuck her.
The ladies made into the cramped dressing room. Cassandra started to pant. She was experiencing sensory overload with the music, the perfume, the beautiful naked white girl showing her body to a room full of sexually-hungry men. Her heart started racing pumping hot blood through her veins.
“The crowd is getting really rowdy. We could really use another white girl tonight!” said Goth Girl, “Fuck, I might have to put my ass on stage. And I worked so hard to become JaMarcus's assistant manager.” she said while wiping her lips.
Cassandra's eyes shifted left and right, up and down, trying to get a grasp where she was. One of the toilet stalls was occupied by snorting women. A blonde dancer was in the corner trying to push her boobs into a tight, undersized bikini top. The dancer was naked below the waist and unashamedly exposing her bare, shaved pussy. Where above, was a nice, tiny black tattoo reading “BLACK COCK SLUT”. Hitting Cassandra like a tingle of electricity, she felt immediate excitement looking at the tattoo.
The walls were lined with posters of naked black men in romantic poses with white women. Some were threesomes of two men or two women. A few showcased pregnant white mothers to-be with proud black palms over their swollen bellies. As the room echoed the booming base from the stage floor, boom da-da-dun … boom da-da-da-dun … Goth Girl was anxious to see Cassandra get into her dress. “C'mon! C'mon! Let's see you in your outfit.” she pushed. Cassandra pulled the strap over her shoulder and started rummaging through her dress purchased from the Blossom Boutique. First the heels were pulled out followed by the dress. Cassandra pulled off her drab clothes and revealed the g-string already clung around her hips. Goth Girl grinned and nodded when she noticed how nice Cassandra's titties were. Panic set in Cassandra again. As she continued fitting into her blue dress she kept making excuses like, “I think there's a misunderstanding ...” and “I don't know about this ...” but Goth Girl only replied with “You're going to be popular here.”
Then Cassandra the attorney stood, not in her work day clothes but in her night work outfit. A blue mini-dress, a black and blue midriff vest, and matching heels. The clothes she walked in with was shoved into the back and quickly pulled by Goth Girl for “safe keeping”. The Goth Girl licked her lips just imagining what a lioness the blonde would be with the right men undressing her. “Yeah, yeah ...” she said and pulled Cassandra's hand again. It was time to go to JaMarcus's office. Cassandra grabbed a lot more looks this time as Goth Girl escorted her from the dressing room. Eyes of alpha-men hunting for late night pussy focused on the “new girl” taken across the club in her stripper-wear. Cassandra would had never admitted it but she swung her hips. Deep down, she knew the men would look at her. What's the harm having them look at her ass a little longer? Past the bar, beyond the row of shelves stocked with top-shelf liquor, came the entrance to the manager's office. Goth Girl pushed the door open and caught JaMarcus sitting in his plush chair. He looked relaxed. That's because the strip club boss had a white girl on her knees before him. She was bobbing her head up and down with a black cock in her mouth. Slurpy spit ran down her chin. Cassandra got a good look at it all at only a few feet away. The hard, pulsating cock with its plump, purple head grabbed Cassandra's curiosity and attention. Married or not, her feminine sexuality craved a masculine organ of its size. She caught it all in vivid color … the stripper's lips, her heavy tits swinging, and JaMarcus's big, beautiful cock getting the so much attention. Damn! It was huge with a swollen, purple cock-head. Cassandra turned away but she had seen enough to twitch her erotic cravings. She had to turn back and see more. Like the interracial porn she watched during her “research”, this was her first close look at black cock worship, real and close. It was a real thing, white girls needed a good, black dick. The stripper, Anna, was wearing nothing but her g-string and heels as she shamelessly slurped on dick. Anna was a 39 years old, brown-haired MILF with enlarged breasts and firm, tight hips. Once a good, wholesome mother and wife, she became sexually attracted to black men and she and her ******** wound up working in the club.
Goth Girl assured Cassandra, “Don't worry, you're going to see a lot of dick, here.”
Goth Girl then cleared her throat just as JaMarcus finished telling Anna to “suck that black dick.” After seeing Cassandra JaMarcus called off Anna and took to his feet to put his erect manhood back into this pants. Anna wiped her lips and un-apologetically said, “Don't mind me … I was just paying my debts.”
Goth Girl acted like she totally understood. As Anna stood, JaMarcus laid a firm hand on Anna's ass, “SMACK”, and told her “Go out there and make me some money.” Anna nodded and walked out into the club floor hot and topless.
“You look fine!” JaMarcus said to Cassandra with a big smile. Cassandra blushed unable lose the erotic vision in her head. She twirled her blonde hair, “Um … thanks?” Goth Girl whispered to Cassandra, “He'll tell you how to act around here. Can't wait to see you perform!” The Goth Girl left Cassandra's bag at the far end of a couch and walked out. Cassandra had to rethink what Goth Girl meant by “perform”. She couldn't actually mean for her to go on stage and …
Now Cassandra was alone with JaMarcus, the strip club manager with a huge cock. A stiff, black cock that so easily meant to be slipped between the lips of a white girl and worshiped. Cassandra couldn't shake off the redness on her face and couldn't look at JaMarcus the same after seeing his magnificent manhood. But she tried. After all, she was an attorney with a goal and a job to do. JaMarcus approached the lawyer looking cute in her outfit and carefully put his hands on the tops of her hips. “Yes … you'll do well here.”
“What .. what do you want me to do, JaMarcus?” stuttered Cassandra.
It may have been way past two in the morning,
but the club had its fair share of late-night patrons wanting more girls to entertain them with their feminine beauty and sexuality displayed without shame or remorse. The place was popular with the region's most influential men of the black community. Businessmen and thugs, advocates and racial justice warriors, clergymen and pimps, all came together at the Black Fantasies Lounge to live out their vision of black utopia. Cassandra sat in her chair next to JaMarcus's in the rear of the club, covered by shadows, free from roaming flood lights above. Cassandra felt naturally comfortable with JaMarcus. He was tall, fit, and confident … everything a woman needed in men. Most of all, he was very handsome! Knowing the size of his manhood carried in his loins didn't hurt either. The audience was fixated on the white girl of the moment on stage. Each girl twirled and twerked. The little clothes they had on quickly dropped revealing their nakedness. When a girl on stage did something that pleased the men, dollar bills started raining. It was the economics of black wealth shared with working white girls who showed their support of black supremacy. The benevolence of black power was being fully experienced.
Cassandra couldn't believe what she was seeing from afar. Girls squeezed their breasts or arched their back while on their knees and elbows giving all a good look at their pussies. Cassandra was in disbelief this was happening in her city of Black Pine. The reach of black culture, black power was further into her own life than she could ever predicted. The truth frustrated the white lawyer who covered the ring on her left hand with her right. This wasn't a place for a married, professional woman, she thought.
First there was Mandy, the light-brown haired woman in her twenties. She danced on stage with a pout on her face. Mandy danced to hip hop music and smacked ass in front of an mirrors before squatting and rubbing her clit and looking eyes to the ceiling with a look of sexual frustration held back for hours. She cursed to herself as she worked her clit. When the music stopped, she stood straight up and let out a long breath.
Next was the blonde, Porsche, with the “Black Cock Slut” tattoo. Her eyes were hidden behind straw-colored bangs. She dropped her g-string as soon as the music started and presented her ass to all the men staring at her. The blonde slut played with her nipples and puckered her lips but half the audience was staring at her shaved pussy and tattoo. That act got more than a few bills thrown her way.
Porsche was followed by a duo, a mother-******** team of Anna and the 18 year old, June. While the crowd didn't suddenly double in size but the loudness of their voices were. Anna stepped on stage first before June. June had long, black hair to her middle of her back in a pony tail. She was svelte and had small, but firm breasts men would pay to experience a handful of. The ladies quickly went topless and rubbed their breasts against one another. While a few bills dropped at their heels, more came when June mouthed Anna's nipple. After g-strings were dropped, June went to her hands and knees. Her mother spread June's ass giving the crowd something to roar over. Balls of Washingtons, Lincolns, and even a Hamilton bounced off June's tight, pale body. Anna tapped June's clit and looked out at the crowd of men and saw the smiles while they adjusted the cramp between their legs. Cassandra put her right hand on her heart beating hard in her chest. She couldn't deny the overtly sexual show was. It was exciting and dirty, alluring and very … beautiful. Racially beautiful. There was something undoubtedly right about pleasing black men on their terms.
June had laid on her back on stage. She purposely looked bored and faked a yawn while turning her head to the audience. Her knees were brought up. Her legs spread. Anna got between her legs and slowly lowered her head. Anna looked to the men and held out her hands palms up. She curled her fingers gesturing for a rain of green. When it rained, Anna lowered her head, her nose disappeared between June's thighs. The crowd growled in euphoria. Cassandra could see the teen's facial expression change from boredom to anxiety to … bliss. The blonde lawyer in the stripper dress saw how Anna raised her ass as her head shook feverishly left and right and up and down. The crowd cheered again. Cassandra was caught up in the energy and even applauded. She surprised even herself enjoying the acts of uninhibited pleasures. From the corner of his eye, JaMarcus looked over at Cassandra and approved. The club and its ways were working on the white girl.
Each stripper had a short shift of a single song. That was all it took to make the money before disappearing into the deeper, more darker corners of the club. Meanwhile, the stage remained unoccupied and the place went from a few to a couple to nearly empty. Cassandra wondered if the club was closing. It would be the best time to reach an agreement with JaMarcus and bless her for Monique and her visit to The Black Power Movement. But JaMarcus made a few hand gestures and soon The Goth Girl took the stage. The song played for Goth Girl was slow and a little too relaxing for a strip club. She slowly pranced and twirled on her boots. She showed off her titties for a short time before covering up. Goth Girl looked bored as it seemed she danced for no one. When the song finished, she stepped off the stage. JaMarcus nodded to her before she disappeared into the shadows like the other girls.
“You ready?” asked JaMarcus of Cassandra. Shocked, Cassandra had that appalled look on her face. She really didn't think JaMarcus would expect her to go up there. Seeing her obvious hesitance, JaMarcus reassured her. “Listen, you don't need to take your top off. There's nobody here lookin'. All you gotta do is walk around on stage for one short song. I see naked white girls every night, so don't worry about me.” JaMarcus finished his “pitch” with a tug at his groin. The shape of his manhood easily seen through the pants. It only reminded Cassandra that it recently went into Anna's mouth. The lawyer's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't stop thinking about JaMarcus's cock. Every so often in a sexually active woman's life, she needs to suck dick. For Cassandra, this was one of them, but the married blond shook off that sudden desire. Cassandra was here for work and to get that confidence if she was going up against The Black Power Movement.
“I only need to walk around on stage?” Cassandra asked wanting reassurances. JaMarcus nodded his head once. “I don't take off my clothes?” she asked again. JaMarcus simply shook his head, “Not unless you want to.” Then the brave lawyer demanded, “If I do this, you'll tell Monique I'm comfortable with black men?” The calm manager grinned, “I'll tell you 'after' I see up there on stage.” Cassandra pouted, looked up into the ceiling and tapped her heels. Her childish act was momentary and said “Okay.” She looked around and convinced herself no one would be watching but JaMarcus.
JaMarcus smiled again and looked over to Goth Girl waiting for instructions by the music box. Cassandra took deep breaths and told herself, “I can do this!” She rushed to the stage hoping it would speed up her “shift”. Then came Goth Girl's voice over the speakers, “Now up, she's new, she's ready … she's … Cassie!”
Cassandra rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, “It's Cassandra.” She was still a high-paid attorney, after all. When her left foot reached the first step up to the stage her knees almost buckled at fear. Speakers began blaring present day rap music. The opening words were fitting …
Look at the white girl,
She's going black tonight,
Yeah … she's gonna be a good fuck!
- Black Dick 3
Cassandra reached the top of the stage and circled the pole. She looked for JaMarcus before staring into the lights in the ceiling. She didn't want to catch anyone looking at her. Cassandra took deep breaths and walked the pole in circles careful not to get too close to the edges. She counted every step her stripper heels tapped the floor. She tried to find ways to make the time pass. Most of all, she prayed no one would get too close to her. Cassandra sighed and purposely looked bored and disinterested. \She already made plans to rush into the dressing room and race home.
The music continued played. The rap lyrics were just as sexually provocative suggesting the “white girl” was going through one black man after another. Cassandra didn't want to look into the tables. She didn't want to see any faces, not their eyes, not their smiles. Boom-da-da-dum … boom-da-da-dum. Cassandra prayed the song to be over. Her grip on the pole was so tight she pulled herself off-balance and about tripped to the stage. She thought about her husband and almost cried to herself wondering how she found herself up here. Cassandra wouldn't deny this was enough for divorce. She had second thoughts about her career and maybe she was too ambitious.
Fortunately, the music ended and Cassandra let the air out of her lungs and made a bee-line to the stairs. She felt relieved it was over, more relieved that no one seemed to notice her. Cassandra made it back to the chair next to JaMarcus, dropped her ass into it, and crossed her legs. With arms crossed over her breasts she sneered, “Do I pass the test?” In fact, Cassandra's confidence in herself was shaken. The other dancers could school her how to be more comfortable. JaMarcus saw this and knew to choose his words carefully. Cassandra was much more pleasant and attractive when she wasn't so negative.
The Goth Girl rushed over and crouched on her knees in front of JaMarcus. “We need help in the VIP room. Will the new girl start doing privates?” JaMarcus whispered something into the Goth Girl's ear before she shifted her eyes to Cassandra. Goth Girl looked somewhat pissed but accepted with her manager's answer before strutting away.
Cassandra had the opportunity, right then and there, to tell JaMarcus she wanted her clothes and walk out of there. She could have easily ended her night but Cassandra asked JaMarcus, “Privates?”
JaMarcus asked Cassandra to follow him back to his office. As they strolled across the club, dodging the tables and chairs, a small group of black gentlemen stepped into the club. The place was starting to get busy again. Inside the manager's office, past the couch, past the desk were black curtains in the corner. The mysterious curtains hid a narrow staircase behind. The staircase was illuminated with red light from above. The top of the staircase went into the rafters where a makeshift attic was made from plywood flooring. Under the low ceiling hosted a couple tables, and upholstered chairs. LED lights attached above that may or may not met code. It was a very private room reserved for the very few.
The middle was showcased by black, iron railings 4 feet tall making a square shaped fence outside a hole in the flooring. There was music coming out from below and other rather erotic sounds of rubbing, moans, and deep breathing. The sounds “seduced” Cassandra to approach the railing. JaMarcus simply stood and watched the lawyer discover the truth on her own. Looking down over the railing, Cassandra peered through black fabric stretched over the hole cut between the two floors. At first, Cassandra could only make out blurry objects … fleshy objects … black and white skinned. Then her mind re-wired the images into something recognizable … sexual. Cassandra was looking into the VIP room the fleshy light and dark figures where the white girls having sex with the black, male patrons.
Cassandra's mind melted. The little “tick” that went off when she caught Anna giving JaMarcus a blow-job was nothing compared to what she felt with seeing the orgy below. The room was cluttered with couches, one pushed up against another. There was the teen, June, lying on her back with her ankles over her customer's shoulders. June was taking a pounding, one after another. “Fuck me … ugh … fuck me ...” she whispered. Beside her was her mother, Anna. Anna was on her hands and knees on the couch. Her customer behind her gripped her hips and fucked her doggie-style. While Anna was facing her ******** getting inter-racially fucked up in front of her. Anna's eye's rolled in euphoria and gasped as she felt every inch of black hardness fill her pussy. “slop … slop … slop ...” Cassandra heard from above as flesh pressed against her round ass. A black hand went across Anna's ass making a sharp “smack” sound. The black man was certainly in charge. “Yes … I need this ...” Anna whispered.
Then there was Mandy. She was busy riding her partner cowgirl style pushing a big, black dick deep inside her womb. A pair of black hands cupped her breasts. The stripper had nice titties that experienced black hands grabbing them all night. Mandy's head reared back and looked up into the hole in the ceiling startling Cassandra peeping from above. But the lighting in the VIP room made it difficult, if not impossible, to see if anyone was watching. Mandy moaned. Her fingers curled into the broad shoulders of her customer. She squealed, “I love the black dick!”
In the far corner was Porsche. She was on her knees giving her black man the sloppiest blow-job she could give. Cassandra couldn't look away from the look of pleasure on the black man's face. The grin displayed both satisfaction and conquest. His black fingers ran through the blonde's hair like a comb as he nodded and smiled. He bucked his hips just enough to make the dancer know he was fucking her face. Cassandra covered her mouth. She would do anything to have a man treat her like that.
Finally, taking her man by the hand, was the Goth Girl. She strutted into the place wearing nothing but her boots and a g-string. She escorted him to one of the few free places on a couch next to Mandy. The tall gentlemen rustled out of his clothes as Goth Girl took a puff on her cigarette. As the man's pants hit the floor, his engorged cock stood at attention. The couple kissed before her black mate for the hour started mouthing one of her nipples. She took a deep breath unable to resist the pleasure of being needing and used. Cassandra couldn't take her eyes how the Goth Girl's “date” was helping himself and fingering her pussy. The women began moaning in unison and deep down Cassandra wanted to join them. The sex … the mating … the feminine desires to breed with strong alpha-males were getting to her. She pulled herself away from the railing before the erotic feelings overtook her.
“Why shouldn't we take everything from white people? Make no difference if you're single or married. Your pussy belongs to us.” bragged JaMarcus. The man at everything in reach … money, power, and pussy.
“You sound like a black supremacist.” Cassandra remarked as she quickly covered her left hand.
“I suppose I am.” JaMarcus confessed noticing Cassie's covered ring. There was an awkward pause only broken by Mandy's voice below pleading “Fuck me! I want black power!” Feeling dejected, Cassandra asked in a sarcastic tone, “Does that include me? Does my pussy belong to 'the black man'?” she asked.
“Look at you!” chuckled JaMarcus. “You came here freely with that fuck-me outfit. I think deep down you know it's true and couldn't wait to come in here.”
“No … no, you're wrong!” Cassandra reacted with her palm up in denial.
“Stop the shit, white girl. Stop foolin' yourself. You should be joining your white sisters and makin' the money.” JaMarcus suggested.
Cassandra argued back, “You're running a brothel here … a whorehouse, where your 'black supremacists' are subjugating white women into sexual addition all out of racial justice. I've been doing my research in black supremacy.”
JaMarcus raised an eyebrow and said to the white girl in the fuck-me outfit, “Then you know we're going to fuck.”
“Whoa!” said a surprised and offended-sounding Cassandra acting as if JaMarcus's suggestion was inappropriate and unexpected. She put her left hand over her mouth, fingers bridging her nose in that “I can't believe what I'm hearing” look. Cassandra looked up and shook her head continuing her smug act of privilege. “You really think we were going to have sex after your speech?” she asked, rhetorically.
“I saw how you were looking at me when you walked into my office. You couldn't peel your eyes away from this black dick.” JaMarcus reminded her while brushing his hand across his crotch to grab Cassandra's attention again. It worked.
Cassandra laughed at herself and smirked. The attorney put up her act of disinterest and denial. She wasn't going to be a whore. But the moans from below made mockery of her. Cassandra thought she was better and said, “I can't believe … I can't believe I actually considered ... after we settle things here, we step away from the club and ...”
“Fuck?” JaMarcus answered. Cassandra said nothing in return and looked away. Her smugness vanished. Cassandra couldn't hide her attraction to JaMarcus and wasn't going to try to hide it.
“We both want the same thing, Cassie. “ replied JaMarcus. The blonde was impatient and immediately whispered, “It's Cassandra.” But JaMarcus continued, “You're obviously sexually frustrated and look to get fucked. … I need to lay down some pipe. … Let's work this out together as two grown adults. Let me straighten you out.”
“Straighten 'me' out?” Cassandra asked and amazed in JaMarcus's arrogance. JaMarcus followed, “We do this … you'll feel better about yourself, about my people, and racial justice. We both win!” said JaMarcus snapping his fingers. But Cassandra replied, “That's all I am ... a slut ... for black cock?”
“That's well put. I see you have done your research.” JaMarcus confessed.
Cassandra's pride, her white pride, made her huff and storm out to the staircase. “Everything you just said was wrong!”
JaMarcus did not move an inch to stop her. But he did say, “Go ahead and leave. I'll even put in a good word for you with Monique. But Monique … will see you're not entirely 'comfortable' with black men. Especially, those who want to fuck white girls.”
JaMarcus didn't say it but Monique would think Cassandra as racist without that improved attitude. What could she do and not have sex with black men? She had no choice but work with JaMarcus, “There has to be another way. What do I have to do? JaMarcus simply answered, “Go down there … and dance. Don't mind anyone. Make yourself comfortable, Cassandra.” After a pause without Cassandra answering, JaMarcus threw his hand, “Or go ahead and pick up your clothes and go home. But if you want me to fuck you, make up your mind soon before I choose someone else. The Goth chick is starting to show attitude.”
Cassandra snickered, “I'm finished here.” She took the steps down from the attic.
JaMarcus took a deep breath. He thought he was close getting a fresh piece of ass. JaMarcus swung his left hand across his hardened groin trying to settle it down, “Gawd-damn it!” He then grunted and threw his hips. JaMarcus took another deep breath and looked into the VIP room below. It looked like another weekday night with the club making money hand over fist. The black victories happening there were common and frequent. It was almost boring. The manager took the stairs and walked through the curtains into his office. Looking over at the couch, Cassandra's bag with her “day clothes” was still there waiting for her. “Where did the white girl go?” he asked himself. JaMarcus walked out into the club, past the bar, and looked to the stage. To his surprise, he saw prancing on stage was Cassandra!
Cassandra walked in heels alone to the tune of low volume rap music that was dying down in its final verse. The jukebox played the next selection in its queue and filled the lounge with “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”. JaMarcus stepped into the shadows and watched from a distance, curious what would happen next.
The next song began. It was a sexually-fueled rap song. Cassandra looked up and lifted her right heel and began swinging her hips. She strutted from one end of the stage to the other. Cassie leaned against the stripper pole, closed her eyes and and ran her hands down the side of her body giving attention to her curves. “Fuck it!” she said to herself and unclasped the single button on her vest and pulled it open to reveal her beautiful breasts. Cassandra pushed out her chest getting the attention of every black man in the room. Her vest dropped to the floor and she didn't wait another second to push down her blue mini-skirt.
There was an applause and an enthusiastic “Yes!” from the crowd that fueled Cassie's confidence. She made another circle around the stage with her arms straight and aimed to the floor. Cassandra made no attempt to hide her breasts from the many piercing looks. She went back to the pole and leaned her left shoulder against it. With her back arched, she put her ass to the room and and slapped it with her right hand.
Cassandra felt a “ping” against her ass. It felt like a mosquito bite, short and painless. She made her first dollar. Swinging her ass left and right, she felt it was time. No longer just a wife and working professional, she was a white girl who gave herself to the room. “It's coming off!” she thought to herself before peeling her g-string down her thighs and falling to her ankles. Cassandra looked over her shoulder and saw nothing but lights and silhouettes. But she taunted the room with her pussy and her ass she swung left and right … left and right. “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”.
Gripping the pole with her left hand, she made one circle before pressing her breasts against the brass. Balls of 1's, started dropping on the stage next to her. In all the excitement and attention, she licked the pole like a dirty whore! Then in her final act, during the final verse of beautiful rap, she turned to face the room and squatted. Her back pressed against the cold pole behind her as she lowered her body until her ass was below her knees. She opened her legs and started rubbing her clit and masturbated for the room. Her free hand squeezed a breast to the delight of the audience. Cassandra crossed her eyes in instant delirium feeling liberated as the other white girls busy in the VIP room. She was free from judgment, free from white-morality, free to be an object looked to and wanted for nothing but sex! Meanwhile, JaMarcus rubbed his chin in surprise. He didn't think she had it in her.
When the music stopped, the silence broke Cassandra out of her trance. Her eyes popped open and she had realized what a little tramp she had acted like. Her fact went white and pale, more than usual. She closed her knees and began scrambling to put on her g-string before gathering her clothes and all the little green notes. Cassandra rolled all of them into a ball and ran off stage with her clothes faster than Elvis. The lingering applause from the aroused patrons only reminded her of the debauchery. She was desperate for escape and made a straight line to JaMarcus's office hoping no one would approach her. Halfway there, Cassandra's feet froze to the carpet as she caught a black stranger looking at her.
From the comfort of his chair, the stranger looked back through his wide, mirrored sunglasses. He had wore an African-inspired, bright colored robe and a fez. The African looked like a warlord or diplomat and escorted by a couple of his staff wearing expensive Italian suits. It wasn't just his presence that startled Cassandra but how she caught herself in his glass's reflections. Cassandra noticed she looked no different than the strippers working the floor. She was far from the respectful and influential attorney not to mention the faithful wife. For a moment, there was no music only a racial connection between the almost-nude Cassandra and the African warlord. A raw, animal bonding between a strong male and a woman. The warlord clasped his hands and nodded while his wingmen shook their fists. Cassandra lifted her heels feeling heavy and clumsy and hurried to the office.
Meanwhile, JaMarcus smiled and shook his head. “Sheeeet ….” he muttered to himself. Some of the ladies made appearances out of the VIP room and to the dressing room. In short time, the club would have a white girl or two on stage in its final few hours before close. But JaMarcus still had some strip club management to do.
Cassandra never felt so humiliated. She surprised herself while feeling both confused and embarrassed. What got into her to act that way. She pushed her hands into her bag on the office couch and pulled out her respectful, “day clothes”. That was when JaMarcus strolled in and closed the door behind him. He made no effort to sneak up to her. JaMarcus wanted to know he was in the room. Cassandra sniffled, “Do I meet your approval?” she said sarcastically as she was struggling to choose which garment to put on first.
“Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm! You're a natural!” complimented JaMarcus as he approached her standing near the couch. “I'm not, trust me.” Cassandra said defending her self-respect. JaMarcus stepped behind Cassandra and wrapped his right arm around her waist. His left hand placed underneath her left breast and slowly working its way up.
Cassandra felt awkward and pleaded, “Stop.” But JaMarcus pressed his loins against her ass and she felt his massive bulge. Cassandra let out a hot gasp of air, “Ohhhh.” JaMarcus's left hand cupped her tit and at first, she tried to brush it away. But the stiffness in his pants distracted her. She knew very well what he was packaging. Feeling how good it felt, she gave up resisting JaMarcus's grope. JaMarcus put his nose into Cassie's neck making her feel blasts of hot air coming out of his nostrils. She reached back in a vain attempt to push JaMarcus's crotch from pressing her ass. Instead, she got a good grip of his cock.
“Please?” Cassandra whispered.
“Please, fuck you?” JaMarcus replied.
Cassandra shook her head and whispered. “We're not having sex.” Her fingers curled around JaMarcus's tubular organ while she continued resisting. JaMarcus began kissing Cassie's neck making her pant. She turned her head and the couple's lips met. Tongues flashed against each other before Cassandra turned her head away and looked ahead as JaMarcus fondled her breasts and ass. JaMarcus began to take more control and pushed her g-string down. Cassandra shifted her legs letting it slide past her knees and to the floor. It didn't take too much effort to step out of them.
JaMarcus momentarily released Cassandra to unbutton the top of his pants. His very-hungry black cock sprang out. JaMarcus gestured Cassie to grip it and she did without hesitation before he resumed flirting with his arms back around her. His fingers freely played with her left titty as Cassandra made one stroke of his cock. She felt the hot blood flowing through his manhood.
“You ready to get blacked, now?” JaMarcus pressed as his rubbery cock-head brushed against her. His hot balls pressed against Cassandra's ass. Cassandra then made two strokes of black cock and turned her head to JaMarcus so they could kiss once more. “We're not going to fuck. I'm married and I'm not risking my marriage and career for black supremacy.”
“It's totally worth it.” JaMarcus assured, “It's beautiful.” he said before continuing kissing her neck. “I'm sure it is.” Cassandra replied and she said further, “Turning us white girls into sluts so you can fuck us. Lot's of fun.” She gave three slow strokes of cock.
But Cassandra pleaded, “I'm not a black supremacist.”
“You will be.” JaMarcus promised.
“I … I will?” Cassandra wondered in a obviously teasing voice. That riled JaMarcus. He insisted, “Enough of the teasing, Cassie. I need to dump some cum, now! Get down and suck that black dick.”
Stroke … stroke … tug and pull did Cassandra to JaMarcus's hard organ.
Then she stopped because it was time to end the flirting, the bullshit, the conversion. Cassandra let go of JaMarcus's cock and looked him in the eyes, “I'm proud of being white, JaMarcus. I'm not a slut for black men to put their cocks in all my fuck-holes.”
JaMarcus reminded her, “You are.”
Startled at his honesty, Cassandra had little to say other than, “Is that so?” It was apparent, he had no respect for her intelligence. She meant nothing to him other than the single purpose of being a cum dumpster before being pushed aside for the next white girl. This was black supremacy lived to its fullest.
JaMarcus said nothing in reply but a single nod. Cassie conceded she would get no further with JaMarcus in his strip club. There was nothing else for the attorney to do. So Cassie said, “Well … in that case ...”
Cassandra turned to face JaMarcus and dropped her knees to the floor. Staring at his black cock, pulsating in sexual excitement and need, she parted her lips and aimed her mouth as she leaned into his loins. The black cock slid over her tongue. She closed her lips and began pleasing her man … her black man.
The flavor, the taste of a real man, was overpowering and more erotic and sexual pleasing than she could had imagined. The twirl running through her head was mind-blowing and addictive. It wasn't anything as demeaning and so unsatisfying when she cared to give her husband a marital blow-job. The sweaty, organic flesh made her feel dirty but the pheromones gave her an instant high Cassandra couldn't get enough of. “Slurphhh, slurphhh ...” she went on black dick with her hands on JaMarcus's thighs. She loved it. She loved it. She loved it! Her eyes crossed, her mind emptied … she was in a happy place!
Cassandra looked up when JaMarcus put his hand on the top of her head. “Be that whore, white girl!” he told her. After she fed her mouth for several moments, they made eye contact. Cassandra needed to see that satisfied, empowered look on his face. She wanted to please him more than Anna. Cassandra licked his balls as she stroked him with her right hand. Lap-lap-lap went her tongue under JaMarcus's heavy testicles. She was in love as she had never seen balls as large on any white boy. As her hand went up and down fast and faithful on his black dick, Cassandra felt slutty and needed to feel this way. She surprised herself for loving it so. When she put the black organ back into her mouth and pushed it to the back of her throat. She growled while shivering her head side to side like a porn star.
JaMarcus growled too. “Damn! You want to be a black cock slut, don't you?”
Cassandra pulled her head back and took a deep breath, “Fuck, yeah! Make it happen!”
JaMarcus grabbed the base of his cock and started tapping, whipping it across Cassandra's happy face. Slap. Slap. Slap. It went across her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. When he through with her face, he began tapping both her breasts. It felt heavy dropping on her titties. “Is your white hubby man enough to do this to ya?” he asked. Cassandra just smiled with her lips apart. She gasped and shook her head. Cassandra was about ashamed of having a white husband. She was now black cock crazy!
At JaMarcus's wishes, Cassandra put her ass on the couch. Her chin was wet with spittle and she wasn't a bit embarrassed. JaMarcus knelt between her legs and pushed back her thighs. He lowered her head and began eating pussy. JaMarcus was a sexually-hungry black man, an alpha male. It took a room full of sex-addicted white girls to keep him sated. Cassandra was special though. While she was incredibly attractive, in the old ,white-European standards, JaMarcus found her too arrogant and too irresistible not fuck up her life, her privilege, and her marriage. Cassandra, stupid-minded, felt nothing but pleasure. JaMarcus's lips and tongue was hungry and furious giving her relentless waves of excitement. She felt euphoric knowing she had something the black man wanted and needed. Cassandra began to understand what it meant to lose ownership of your pussy to the black race. She chirped like a bird and ran her hands over the top of his head.
JaMarcus crawled up and the couple kissed. Cassandra's hands palmed both of his cheeks as they grunted. Tongues danced. The races came together … white submission … black dominance. “Tell me you want to get blacked, Cassie.” whispered JaMarcus. He had to know he broke her. Cassie nodded with round, puppy-eyes “I want this. I need to get blacked!” JaMarcus slid down with his knees on the floor. He pushed on Cassandra's milky-white thighs because he wanted to see her spread her legs for him. JaMarcus tapped the meat of his cock on her pussy, mashing her clit. Cassandra took a deep breath in anticipating and covered her mouth with her left hand.
JaMarcus tapped Cassandra's pussy with his hard dick and telling her, “I wanted to fuck you ever since I saw you at the boutique. Didn't figure you'd be this easy.” Cassandra about giggled and thought to herself, “This is happening! This is happening!” She was about to give up her marital vows and betray her race for black cock. It felt wonderful! Her ring brushed against her lips and she didn't want to be faithful to her husband or to her race anymore. She wanted to lose to “the black man”. Then … her wish came true.
“Uggh … ah … ummph!” grunted Cassandra as she felt her pussy stretch. JaMarcus leaned forward and saw his fat, purple cock-head disappear and plopped inside Cassie's tight, little snatch. Cassandra needed to catch her breath. The size, girth, and its black steel was more than she imagined it would be. She second-guessed herself if she could really take it like the white girls in all the porn she watched. Cassandra gasped again and turned her head. Squeezing a breast she mumbled, “...fuck me … fuck me ...”. JaMarcus snorted and slowly pushed, making room inside her womb. “You'll never be the same, Cassie ...” whispered JaMarcus with both hands gripping her hips. He pushed in another couple inches as Cassie opened her mouth wide and let out a deep breath. “Pussy ... so tight!” he commented.
“Please, go slow!” begged Cassie.
“Your little dick white boys don't know how to fuck you right.” JaMarcus teased and plowed again. “It's so fuckin' huge!” cried Cassie as she felt the monster organ fill her womb. She let out a shudder and a moan hoping it would make things better but there was so much to JaMarcus's big, black cock he had a few more inches to give. “Ah, yes! Yeah! Fuck, yeah!” JaMarcus celebrated as he fed his deserving cock the pussy it needed. “The married, white girl is giving it up!”
Cassandra took a series of short breaths. She felt and thought of nothing but dick. Good dick. She turned to her lover and they met nose-to-nose. JaMarcus had pushed every inch of his manhood inside of her. He was now balls-deep and taking his time. “You're blacked!” he told her. Cassandra was unable to voice any words too preoccupied with her “fullness”. It didn't dawn on her she was fully “cheating” on her husband, Kenneth. Another man had taken her pussy by putting his huge organ inside her … fucking her … changing her.
JaMarcus bucked his hips giving his white girl a good short burst of cock. He whispered to her, ”Now, I'm gonna fuck you.” He gave her a lunge, “Like that!” He gave her another, “Like that!” In reply, Cassie could only moan after each stroke penetrating her. However, there were limits to JaMarcus's patience. Needing pussy with balls full of thick, warm cum to drop, JaMarcus began his “fucking”. Pushing in, slow stroke out … pushing in … fuck, fuck, fuck.
As much as it looked pornographic, it was truly beautiful. The strong, street smart, attractive black man was getting the pussy he needed. The white girl, whose heart was as open as her legs, dutifully surrendered her body. Her marriage and career meant nothing when it came to the sexual needs of the black man. The room, the lounge, the world was a better place with these two lovers enjoying the penetration of black manhood into a white womb. In a few short moments, just several thrusts of cock, did Cassandra understood she needed an interracial fuck as much as JaMarcus.
Cassandra placed her hands on JaMarcus's broad shoulders. She let out another groan of pleasure. No more, did she plead “slow”. She wanted “more”. “Your fuck-holes is why you're here on my couch.” JaMarcus told her … truth. He got up off his knees and used the balls of his feet to give him the leverage to continue driving his loins. JaMarcus buried his nose into Cassie's neck. Hot air blasted from his mouth when he wasn't teething on her neck.
“Oh fuck me, JaMarcus!” Cassandra moaned. “Fuck my white pussy. I want to be your slut!” she offered. JaMarcus kept going slamming his cock deep inside the tight pussy. Cassandra let out a sudden burst out of her mouth. JaMarcus figured she had already had her first orgasm. “No white boy will touch you now you're fucking black!” he told her.
Slam … slam … slam … JaMarcus kept his strong, dominant pace pushing his cock into Cassandra. Her husband couldn't last half or a fraction what JaMarcus was doing to her. Cassandra's body was getting fucked and used. Her open-mindedness to black, alpha-males was duly rewarded with sexual bliss and orgasmic purpose. This man could do anything he wanted with her and he was. “No white boy can fuck you like this … only black!” said JaMarcus enjoying his conquest. “I belong to you, baby! I'll leave my husband if you tell me!” Cassie offered. JaMarcus said nothing. He didn't love the white girl. He only needed her for pussy. It was his already.
Feeling she was talking too much, JaMarcus stood and pulled Cassandra to her knees. He wanted to see his wet, dirty cock back into her mouth. Cassie gladly obliged. With a stern face, JaMarcus nodded in approval. He expected to see the white girl obey. Cassie's eyes were full of life and energy. Tasting his dick, tasting herself made her feel deep down dirty-good. This was the sex she so badly needed and cursed at herself for not realizing earlier in her life. It was a blessing of black culture, of black power.
“Slap that tongue with my black cock ...” JaMarcus demanded. Of course, Cassie did. Holding it with her right hand, she missed her tongue the first time, instead hitting her nose. But she followed with good smacks and sent spit flying. This was something she would never do with her husband. And never will.
Cassandra was helped back up to the couch where she put her knees on the cushions. She leaned forward over the edge of the couch while JaMarcus gripped her hips from behind. Cassie took a deep breath, waiting for her lover's manhood to penetrate her again. She said in a very cutely voice, “... fuck me ...”
A slap across her ass reminded her she was made for black cock. Moments later, she felt JaMarcus enter her and pushed forward. Cassie's proud smile disappeared and replaced with a wince as the girth stretched her open again. JaMarcus threw his loins in like a spear. The forward lunge made Cassie chirp then moan. A firm hand gripped her breast and JaMarcus rested his nose into her chin. Like a piston, he moved his hips. In … out-in … out-in … he went.
“Every black man wants to fuck you … every black man wants to fuck you ...” JaMarcus whispered his chant. He was trying to get into her head as deep as in her pussy. In her delirious state of mind, it was more than a compliment to Cassandra. It was mind-opening advice. After JaMarcus told her the fourth time, she experienced another orgasm. She was prepared for more instruction. “I fuck you whenever I want … black men fuck you whenever they want ...” Exhausted, Cassandra nodded.
“Oh, fuuuucckkk!” Cassandra cried never imagining any man could last like this. With every thrust, nearly another foot of cock pushed into her womb. “Do you still love me, Cassie? Knowing I just want to use you?” Cassie could only grunt as her titties bounced underneath her. “Smack!” as a black hand went across her ass.
“Uh-huh.” mumbled Cassie. She was in love with a black man.
JaMarcus wanted to sit down and he took a place on his couch. Still in her heels, Cassie stumbled to straddle him, facing away in reverse-cowgirl. She lowered her ass and using her left hand to guide JaMarcus's black member. Cassie gave her first lap dance but it came with extras. JaMarcus's cock made its way inside much easier the third time. Her pussy was well well wet and stretched. It was like a giant spear giving her the drug she needed. Instead of giggling like a drunken co-ed, she let out a relieving gasp and moaning, “... yes … yes ...”
Watching her beautiful round ass drop into his groin, JaMarcus's hand went across it. SMACK. He demanded, “Work that cock, white girl! You're here to please the black man.” Cassandra let out an erotic moan conceding her purpose. She gyrated her hips and bucked up and down. Cassie rolled her eyes and smiled. It just felt so good to ride a hard, black dick. Her pussy was full, stretched, and fucked. Her body and soul was fucked. As so was her marriage, privilege, and white way of life. Cassandra grabbed her tits, squeezing them hard. “... I love you, JaMarcus ...” she whispered.
The room was a beautiful place in the world. A white girl was pleasing her black king, using her body to sexually please him. “Get me off, white girl! Get me off!” JaMarcus wanted. While the couple was getting close to racial climax, Goth Girl rushed in fully clothed …
“Hey, boss! I need to know ...” Goth Girl cut herself off in mid-sentence when she figured out what was happening on her manager's couch. She walked up to the couple, her hands on her hips, mouth open and speechless. The blonde wasn't at least bit startled or embarrassed, she just continued bouncing up and down as JaMarcus was obviously worked up and breathing heavy.
Goth Girl grabbed Cassandra by the chin and remarked with a single word, “Slut!” Cassandra turned to the Goth Girl and smiled, “Yeah.” she said in return.
“I'll come back when you're finished 'fucking' her!” said Goth Girl in a pissy voice before storming out of the room.
JaMarcus began bucking his hips slamming his loins into Cassie's cute, white ass. Their sweaty flesh slapped together making that sticky sound. JaMarcus grunted. Cassandra felt the veins in his cock expand and felt him twitching. She was going to make her black man cum! Another smack went across her ass, “Every black man wants to fuck you, babe!” said JaMarcus. Cassandra put her right index finger in her mouth and giggled.
“Aaaaagh!” yelled JaMarcus and a shot of hot cum splattered inside Cassandra's married womb. “Fuck that pussy!” he cursed, and another shot popped from the end of his cock. Cassie threw her head back. She had cum again and didn't hear another word JaMarcus had said to her. JaMarcus turned Cassie on her side on the couch. Spooning her, he mashed his body up against hers as much as he could with his cock inside her. “Take that cum! Take that cum.” he told her. Cassie only shivered as she felt absolute euphoria in the arms of her strong man. The interracial couple had mated.
The couple recovered for a few moments in each other's arms. While Cassandra knew she meant little more than a sex object to JaMarcus, she gave his chest several kisses. “I'll do anything for you.” she said. JaMarcus took his right hand and rubbed her ass. It felt smooth and tight. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and gave her a good smack on her ass.
“Go out there and make me some money.” he told her.
Cassandra looked at JaMarcus. She understood and accepted their relationship would take a new turn. The club jukebox began playing its next selection, “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”. The world had one more black supremacist.
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section.
Cassandra is ready to negotiate with The Black Power Movement. However, she was told she isn't comfortable enough around black men to be given the privilege to meet with Mr. Akin Kalu, Chairman of the vaulted Movement. This is where JaMarcus stepped in who invited kindly Cassandra to his nightclub to learn a few things about black men. Cassandra will walk in as a happily married, professional woman looking out for a white-owned business. What secrets will she learn inside the Black Fantasies Lounge? Will she keep her loyalties to her profession, marriage, and race?
In its racist age,
the city of White Pine had its peculiar part of town. There you'd find a run down hotel built shortly after prohibition, a seedy adult magazine store, and a liquor store frequented by the downtrodden scraping coins for a lotto ticket. Like much of the city, it was overlooked by its white residents and politicians who represented them. However, newer days came. It wasn't a brighter day but much, much blacker. The Red Light District was re-imagined and developed by forward thinking black entrepreneurs. The district became home to many adult-themed entertainment and written in law exclusive to black-owned businesses. The rightful election of Mayor Sweet reinvigorated the city and the district that was respectfully known as the Black Light District. It was a beacon for black gentleman to feed their desires to be entertained. It was the fruits of a racially harmonious society.
Cassandra stood on the curb holding JaMarcus's business card. Wearing casual, drab clothes and carrying a bag at her side, she stood between the Black Fantasies Fantasies Lounge and its video shoppe next door. It was two in the morning and the district street was busier than Cassandra would have guessed. A frazzled white woman stumbled out of the video shop and bumped into her. The disoriented woman mumbled an apology before wiping her chin. Down the street, near the curb, a couple of prostitutes were laughing it up. Each were trying to seduce the black men who stood in front of them. One of the girls was blonde. The other was raven-haired. Then came the brass band. It was the four of them, four young black men … one with a trumpet, another with a trombone, and a third with a sax. The fourth carried a tuba. They paraded on the other side of the street and played a short marching tune before bellowing out “Black power is here!” The prostitutes paused their seduction and cheered clapping their hands over their heads. Another white woman ran out to give them money and threw a solidarity fist in their honor.
Cassandra was drawn to the lounge by its deep bass booming out from inside its walls … “boom da-da-dun … boom da-da-da-dun ...” Another look at the card didn't change a thing. It was the right address. The dressed down lawyer took a deep breath and thought of it as research. This was a part of her 'job' to navigate the political and cultural hurdles of the black man, of the black community she knew so little of. To speak with The Black Power Movement's leadership, she needed to earn their trust. She had begun to learn how to act like a respectful white woman in a community of interracial utopia ruled by racial activists where black supremacy isn't just discussed by achieved. She just had one more lesson to learn.
The smell inside the room was a vaporous mixture of smoke, liquor, and perfume. The club was dark, only illuminated by small floodlights of blue, red, and orange. Cassandra was greeted at the door by a large, intimidating but sweet talking doorman behind the counter. He grinned, immediately recognizing Cassandra's natural beauty through her otherwise drab clothes.
“You must be Cassie!” said the Goth Girl who rushed up to her from the bar. The Goth Girl was a thin-framed 24 year old with the blackest hair, a nose ring attached to her right nostril, wearing black platform shoes. Her entire outfit was black including a midriff t-shirt that exposed her flat tummy making her breasts poke out of her shirt. A very tight pair of shorts clung to her hips making her ass round and appreciating.
“It's Cassandra.” the lawyer replied in a vain attempt to remain professional and uptight.
“JaMarcus said you'd be coming by. You're right on time, I see. Is that your wardrobe?” Goth Girl asked pointing at Cassandra's bag. After Cassandra nodded, Goth Girl grabbed her by the hand and escorted her to the dressing room. It was then, when around the corner, Cassandra realized she had indeed stepped inside a strip club catered to black gentlemen.
On the center stage, was a light-haired white woman in her mid twenties. She was an attractive woman and very naked but her heels. The dancer leaned against her stripper pole rubbed her hand across her breasts before turning around and bending over giving the black patrons a good look at her shaved, sweet pussy. Aghast, Cassandra turned away but nothing would slow the Goth Girl from pulling her into the dressing room. Instead of looking at the naked dancer she turned to the faces of black men with piercing eyes. With the look of alpha males, they studied their prey looking to satisfy their hunger. Fortunate for Cassandra, the men paid more attention to the naked woman on stage thinking how they would fuck her.
The ladies made into the cramped dressing room. Cassandra started to pant. She was experiencing sensory overload with the music, the perfume, the beautiful naked white girl showing her body to a room full of sexually-hungry men. Her heart started racing pumping hot blood through her veins.
“The crowd is getting really rowdy. We could really use another white girl tonight!” said Goth Girl, “Fuck, I might have to put my ass on stage. And I worked so hard to become JaMarcus's assistant manager.” she said while wiping her lips.
Cassandra's eyes shifted left and right, up and down, trying to get a grasp where she was. One of the toilet stalls was occupied by snorting women. A blonde dancer was in the corner trying to push her boobs into a tight, undersized bikini top. The dancer was naked below the waist and unashamedly exposing her bare, shaved pussy. Where above, was a nice, tiny black tattoo reading “BLACK COCK SLUT”. Hitting Cassandra like a tingle of electricity, she felt immediate excitement looking at the tattoo.
The walls were lined with posters of naked black men in romantic poses with white women. Some were threesomes of two men or two women. A few showcased pregnant white mothers to-be with proud black palms over their swollen bellies. As the room echoed the booming base from the stage floor, boom da-da-dun … boom da-da-da-dun … Goth Girl was anxious to see Cassandra get into her dress. “C'mon! C'mon! Let's see you in your outfit.” she pushed. Cassandra pulled the strap over her shoulder and started rummaging through her dress purchased from the Blossom Boutique. First the heels were pulled out followed by the dress. Cassandra pulled off her drab clothes and revealed the g-string already clung around her hips. Goth Girl grinned and nodded when she noticed how nice Cassandra's titties were. Panic set in Cassandra again. As she continued fitting into her blue dress she kept making excuses like, “I think there's a misunderstanding ...” and “I don't know about this ...” but Goth Girl only replied with “You're going to be popular here.”
Then Cassandra the attorney stood, not in her work day clothes but in her night work outfit. A blue mini-dress, a black and blue midriff vest, and matching heels. The clothes she walked in with was shoved into the back and quickly pulled by Goth Girl for “safe keeping”. The Goth Girl licked her lips just imagining what a lioness the blonde would be with the right men undressing her. “Yeah, yeah ...” she said and pulled Cassandra's hand again. It was time to go to JaMarcus's office. Cassandra grabbed a lot more looks this time as Goth Girl escorted her from the dressing room. Eyes of alpha-men hunting for late night pussy focused on the “new girl” taken across the club in her stripper-wear. Cassandra would had never admitted it but she swung her hips. Deep down, she knew the men would look at her. What's the harm having them look at her ass a little longer? Past the bar, beyond the row of shelves stocked with top-shelf liquor, came the entrance to the manager's office. Goth Girl pushed the door open and caught JaMarcus sitting in his plush chair. He looked relaxed. That's because the strip club boss had a white girl on her knees before him. She was bobbing her head up and down with a black cock in her mouth. Slurpy spit ran down her chin. Cassandra got a good look at it all at only a few feet away. The hard, pulsating cock with its plump, purple head grabbed Cassandra's curiosity and attention. Married or not, her feminine sexuality craved a masculine organ of its size. She caught it all in vivid color … the stripper's lips, her heavy tits swinging, and JaMarcus's big, beautiful cock getting the so much attention. Damn! It was huge with a swollen, purple cock-head. Cassandra turned away but she had seen enough to twitch her erotic cravings. She had to turn back and see more. Like the interracial porn she watched during her “research”, this was her first close look at black cock worship, real and close. It was a real thing, white girls needed a good, black dick. The stripper, Anna, was wearing nothing but her g-string and heels as she shamelessly slurped on dick. Anna was a 39 years old, brown-haired MILF with enlarged breasts and firm, tight hips. Once a good, wholesome mother and wife, she became sexually attracted to black men and she and her ******** wound up working in the club.
Goth Girl assured Cassandra, “Don't worry, you're going to see a lot of dick, here.”
Goth Girl then cleared her throat just as JaMarcus finished telling Anna to “suck that black dick.” After seeing Cassandra JaMarcus called off Anna and took to his feet to put his erect manhood back into this pants. Anna wiped her lips and un-apologetically said, “Don't mind me … I was just paying my debts.”
Goth Girl acted like she totally understood. As Anna stood, JaMarcus laid a firm hand on Anna's ass, “SMACK”, and told her “Go out there and make me some money.” Anna nodded and walked out into the club floor hot and topless.
“You look fine!” JaMarcus said to Cassandra with a big smile. Cassandra blushed unable lose the erotic vision in her head. She twirled her blonde hair, “Um … thanks?” Goth Girl whispered to Cassandra, “He'll tell you how to act around here. Can't wait to see you perform!” The Goth Girl left Cassandra's bag at the far end of a couch and walked out. Cassandra had to rethink what Goth Girl meant by “perform”. She couldn't actually mean for her to go on stage and …
Now Cassandra was alone with JaMarcus, the strip club manager with a huge cock. A stiff, black cock that so easily meant to be slipped between the lips of a white girl and worshiped. Cassandra couldn't shake off the redness on her face and couldn't look at JaMarcus the same after seeing his magnificent manhood. But she tried. After all, she was an attorney with a goal and a job to do. JaMarcus approached the lawyer looking cute in her outfit and carefully put his hands on the tops of her hips. “Yes … you'll do well here.”
“What .. what do you want me to do, JaMarcus?” stuttered Cassandra.
It may have been way past two in the morning,
but the club had its fair share of late-night patrons wanting more girls to entertain them with their feminine beauty and sexuality displayed without shame or remorse. The place was popular with the region's most influential men of the black community. Businessmen and thugs, advocates and racial justice warriors, clergymen and pimps, all came together at the Black Fantasies Lounge to live out their vision of black utopia. Cassandra sat in her chair next to JaMarcus's in the rear of the club, covered by shadows, free from roaming flood lights above. Cassandra felt naturally comfortable with JaMarcus. He was tall, fit, and confident … everything a woman needed in men. Most of all, he was very handsome! Knowing the size of his manhood carried in his loins didn't hurt either. The audience was fixated on the white girl of the moment on stage. Each girl twirled and twerked. The little clothes they had on quickly dropped revealing their nakedness. When a girl on stage did something that pleased the men, dollar bills started raining. It was the economics of black wealth shared with working white girls who showed their support of black supremacy. The benevolence of black power was being fully experienced.
Cassandra couldn't believe what she was seeing from afar. Girls squeezed their breasts or arched their back while on their knees and elbows giving all a good look at their pussies. Cassandra was in disbelief this was happening in her city of Black Pine. The reach of black culture, black power was further into her own life than she could ever predicted. The truth frustrated the white lawyer who covered the ring on her left hand with her right. This wasn't a place for a married, professional woman, she thought.
First there was Mandy, the light-brown haired woman in her twenties. She danced on stage with a pout on her face. Mandy danced to hip hop music and smacked ass in front of an mirrors before squatting and rubbing her clit and looking eyes to the ceiling with a look of sexual frustration held back for hours. She cursed to herself as she worked her clit. When the music stopped, she stood straight up and let out a long breath.
Next was the blonde, Porsche, with the “Black Cock Slut” tattoo. Her eyes were hidden behind straw-colored bangs. She dropped her g-string as soon as the music started and presented her ass to all the men staring at her. The blonde slut played with her nipples and puckered her lips but half the audience was staring at her shaved pussy and tattoo. That act got more than a few bills thrown her way.
Porsche was followed by a duo, a mother-******** team of Anna and the 18 year old, June. While the crowd didn't suddenly double in size but the loudness of their voices were. Anna stepped on stage first before June. June had long, black hair to her middle of her back in a pony tail. She was svelte and had small, but firm breasts men would pay to experience a handful of. The ladies quickly went topless and rubbed their breasts against one another. While a few bills dropped at their heels, more came when June mouthed Anna's nipple. After g-strings were dropped, June went to her hands and knees. Her mother spread June's ass giving the crowd something to roar over. Balls of Washingtons, Lincolns, and even a Hamilton bounced off June's tight, pale body. Anna tapped June's clit and looked out at the crowd of men and saw the smiles while they adjusted the cramp between their legs. Cassandra put her right hand on her heart beating hard in her chest. She couldn't deny the overtly sexual show was. It was exciting and dirty, alluring and very … beautiful. Racially beautiful. There was something undoubtedly right about pleasing black men on their terms.
June had laid on her back on stage. She purposely looked bored and faked a yawn while turning her head to the audience. Her knees were brought up. Her legs spread. Anna got between her legs and slowly lowered her head. Anna looked to the men and held out her hands palms up. She curled her fingers gesturing for a rain of green. When it rained, Anna lowered her head, her nose disappeared between June's thighs. The crowd growled in euphoria. Cassandra could see the teen's facial expression change from boredom to anxiety to … bliss. The blonde lawyer in the stripper dress saw how Anna raised her ass as her head shook feverishly left and right and up and down. The crowd cheered again. Cassandra was caught up in the energy and even applauded. She surprised even herself enjoying the acts of uninhibited pleasures. From the corner of his eye, JaMarcus looked over at Cassandra and approved. The club and its ways were working on the white girl.
Each stripper had a short shift of a single song. That was all it took to make the money before disappearing into the deeper, more darker corners of the club. Meanwhile, the stage remained unoccupied and the place went from a few to a couple to nearly empty. Cassandra wondered if the club was closing. It would be the best time to reach an agreement with JaMarcus and bless her for Monique and her visit to The Black Power Movement. But JaMarcus made a few hand gestures and soon The Goth Girl took the stage. The song played for Goth Girl was slow and a little too relaxing for a strip club. She slowly pranced and twirled on her boots. She showed off her titties for a short time before covering up. Goth Girl looked bored as it seemed she danced for no one. When the song finished, she stepped off the stage. JaMarcus nodded to her before she disappeared into the shadows like the other girls.
“You ready?” asked JaMarcus of Cassandra. Shocked, Cassandra had that appalled look on her face. She really didn't think JaMarcus would expect her to go up there. Seeing her obvious hesitance, JaMarcus reassured her. “Listen, you don't need to take your top off. There's nobody here lookin'. All you gotta do is walk around on stage for one short song. I see naked white girls every night, so don't worry about me.” JaMarcus finished his “pitch” with a tug at his groin. The shape of his manhood easily seen through the pants. It only reminded Cassandra that it recently went into Anna's mouth. The lawyer's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't stop thinking about JaMarcus's cock. Every so often in a sexually active woman's life, she needs to suck dick. For Cassandra, this was one of them, but the married blond shook off that sudden desire. Cassandra was here for work and to get that confidence if she was going up against The Black Power Movement.
“I only need to walk around on stage?” Cassandra asked wanting reassurances. JaMarcus nodded his head once. “I don't take off my clothes?” she asked again. JaMarcus simply shook his head, “Not unless you want to.” Then the brave lawyer demanded, “If I do this, you'll tell Monique I'm comfortable with black men?” The calm manager grinned, “I'll tell you 'after' I see up there on stage.” Cassandra pouted, looked up into the ceiling and tapped her heels. Her childish act was momentary and said “Okay.” She looked around and convinced herself no one would be watching but JaMarcus.
JaMarcus smiled again and looked over to Goth Girl waiting for instructions by the music box. Cassandra took deep breaths and told herself, “I can do this!” She rushed to the stage hoping it would speed up her “shift”. Then came Goth Girl's voice over the speakers, “Now up, she's new, she's ready … she's … Cassie!”
Cassandra rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, “It's Cassandra.” She was still a high-paid attorney, after all. When her left foot reached the first step up to the stage her knees almost buckled at fear. Speakers began blaring present day rap music. The opening words were fitting …
Look at the white girl,
She's going black tonight,
Yeah … she's gonna be a good fuck!
- Black Dick 3
Cassandra reached the top of the stage and circled the pole. She looked for JaMarcus before staring into the lights in the ceiling. She didn't want to catch anyone looking at her. Cassandra took deep breaths and walked the pole in circles careful not to get too close to the edges. She counted every step her stripper heels tapped the floor. She tried to find ways to make the time pass. Most of all, she prayed no one would get too close to her. Cassandra sighed and purposely looked bored and disinterested. \She already made plans to rush into the dressing room and race home.
The music continued played. The rap lyrics were just as sexually provocative suggesting the “white girl” was going through one black man after another. Cassandra didn't want to look into the tables. She didn't want to see any faces, not their eyes, not their smiles. Boom-da-da-dum … boom-da-da-dum. Cassandra prayed the song to be over. Her grip on the pole was so tight she pulled herself off-balance and about tripped to the stage. She thought about her husband and almost cried to herself wondering how she found herself up here. Cassandra wouldn't deny this was enough for divorce. She had second thoughts about her career and maybe she was too ambitious.
Fortunately, the music ended and Cassandra let the air out of her lungs and made a bee-line to the stairs. She felt relieved it was over, more relieved that no one seemed to notice her. Cassandra made it back to the chair next to JaMarcus, dropped her ass into it, and crossed her legs. With arms crossed over her breasts she sneered, “Do I pass the test?” In fact, Cassandra's confidence in herself was shaken. The other dancers could school her how to be more comfortable. JaMarcus saw this and knew to choose his words carefully. Cassandra was much more pleasant and attractive when she wasn't so negative.
The Goth Girl rushed over and crouched on her knees in front of JaMarcus. “We need help in the VIP room. Will the new girl start doing privates?” JaMarcus whispered something into the Goth Girl's ear before she shifted her eyes to Cassandra. Goth Girl looked somewhat pissed but accepted with her manager's answer before strutting away.
Cassandra had the opportunity, right then and there, to tell JaMarcus she wanted her clothes and walk out of there. She could have easily ended her night but Cassandra asked JaMarcus, “Privates?”
JaMarcus asked Cassandra to follow him back to his office. As they strolled across the club, dodging the tables and chairs, a small group of black gentlemen stepped into the club. The place was starting to get busy again. Inside the manager's office, past the couch, past the desk were black curtains in the corner. The mysterious curtains hid a narrow staircase behind. The staircase was illuminated with red light from above. The top of the staircase went into the rafters where a makeshift attic was made from plywood flooring. Under the low ceiling hosted a couple tables, and upholstered chairs. LED lights attached above that may or may not met code. It was a very private room reserved for the very few.
The middle was showcased by black, iron railings 4 feet tall making a square shaped fence outside a hole in the flooring. There was music coming out from below and other rather erotic sounds of rubbing, moans, and deep breathing. The sounds “seduced” Cassandra to approach the railing. JaMarcus simply stood and watched the lawyer discover the truth on her own. Looking down over the railing, Cassandra peered through black fabric stretched over the hole cut between the two floors. At first, Cassandra could only make out blurry objects … fleshy objects … black and white skinned. Then her mind re-wired the images into something recognizable … sexual. Cassandra was looking into the VIP room the fleshy light and dark figures where the white girls having sex with the black, male patrons.
Cassandra's mind melted. The little “tick” that went off when she caught Anna giving JaMarcus a blow-job was nothing compared to what she felt with seeing the orgy below. The room was cluttered with couches, one pushed up against another. There was the teen, June, lying on her back with her ankles over her customer's shoulders. June was taking a pounding, one after another. “Fuck me … ugh … fuck me ...” she whispered. Beside her was her mother, Anna. Anna was on her hands and knees on the couch. Her customer behind her gripped her hips and fucked her doggie-style. While Anna was facing her ******** getting inter-racially fucked up in front of her. Anna's eye's rolled in euphoria and gasped as she felt every inch of black hardness fill her pussy. “slop … slop … slop ...” Cassandra heard from above as flesh pressed against her round ass. A black hand went across Anna's ass making a sharp “smack” sound. The black man was certainly in charge. “Yes … I need this ...” Anna whispered.
Then there was Mandy. She was busy riding her partner cowgirl style pushing a big, black dick deep inside her womb. A pair of black hands cupped her breasts. The stripper had nice titties that experienced black hands grabbing them all night. Mandy's head reared back and looked up into the hole in the ceiling startling Cassandra peeping from above. But the lighting in the VIP room made it difficult, if not impossible, to see if anyone was watching. Mandy moaned. Her fingers curled into the broad shoulders of her customer. She squealed, “I love the black dick!”
In the far corner was Porsche. She was on her knees giving her black man the sloppiest blow-job she could give. Cassandra couldn't look away from the look of pleasure on the black man's face. The grin displayed both satisfaction and conquest. His black fingers ran through the blonde's hair like a comb as he nodded and smiled. He bucked his hips just enough to make the dancer know he was fucking her face. Cassandra covered her mouth. She would do anything to have a man treat her like that.
Finally, taking her man by the hand, was the Goth Girl. She strutted into the place wearing nothing but her boots and a g-string. She escorted him to one of the few free places on a couch next to Mandy. The tall gentlemen rustled out of his clothes as Goth Girl took a puff on her cigarette. As the man's pants hit the floor, his engorged cock stood at attention. The couple kissed before her black mate for the hour started mouthing one of her nipples. She took a deep breath unable to resist the pleasure of being needing and used. Cassandra couldn't take her eyes how the Goth Girl's “date” was helping himself and fingering her pussy. The women began moaning in unison and deep down Cassandra wanted to join them. The sex … the mating … the feminine desires to breed with strong alpha-males were getting to her. She pulled herself away from the railing before the erotic feelings overtook her.
“Why shouldn't we take everything from white people? Make no difference if you're single or married. Your pussy belongs to us.” bragged JaMarcus. The man at everything in reach … money, power, and pussy.
“You sound like a black supremacist.” Cassandra remarked as she quickly covered her left hand.
“I suppose I am.” JaMarcus confessed noticing Cassie's covered ring. There was an awkward pause only broken by Mandy's voice below pleading “Fuck me! I want black power!” Feeling dejected, Cassandra asked in a sarcastic tone, “Does that include me? Does my pussy belong to 'the black man'?” she asked.
“Look at you!” chuckled JaMarcus. “You came here freely with that fuck-me outfit. I think deep down you know it's true and couldn't wait to come in here.”
“No … no, you're wrong!” Cassandra reacted with her palm up in denial.
“Stop the shit, white girl. Stop foolin' yourself. You should be joining your white sisters and makin' the money.” JaMarcus suggested.
Cassandra argued back, “You're running a brothel here … a whorehouse, where your 'black supremacists' are subjugating white women into sexual addition all out of racial justice. I've been doing my research in black supremacy.”
JaMarcus raised an eyebrow and said to the white girl in the fuck-me outfit, “Then you know we're going to fuck.”
“Whoa!” said a surprised and offended-sounding Cassandra acting as if JaMarcus's suggestion was inappropriate and unexpected. She put her left hand over her mouth, fingers bridging her nose in that “I can't believe what I'm hearing” look. Cassandra looked up and shook her head continuing her smug act of privilege. “You really think we were going to have sex after your speech?” she asked, rhetorically.
“I saw how you were looking at me when you walked into my office. You couldn't peel your eyes away from this black dick.” JaMarcus reminded her while brushing his hand across his crotch to grab Cassandra's attention again. It worked.
Cassandra laughed at herself and smirked. The attorney put up her act of disinterest and denial. She wasn't going to be a whore. But the moans from below made mockery of her. Cassandra thought she was better and said, “I can't believe … I can't believe I actually considered ... after we settle things here, we step away from the club and ...”
“Fuck?” JaMarcus answered. Cassandra said nothing in return and looked away. Her smugness vanished. Cassandra couldn't hide her attraction to JaMarcus and wasn't going to try to hide it.
“We both want the same thing, Cassie. “ replied JaMarcus. The blonde was impatient and immediately whispered, “It's Cassandra.” But JaMarcus continued, “You're obviously sexually frustrated and look to get fucked. … I need to lay down some pipe. … Let's work this out together as two grown adults. Let me straighten you out.”
“Straighten 'me' out?” Cassandra asked and amazed in JaMarcus's arrogance. JaMarcus followed, “We do this … you'll feel better about yourself, about my people, and racial justice. We both win!” said JaMarcus snapping his fingers. But Cassandra replied, “That's all I am ... a slut ... for black cock?”
“That's well put. I see you have done your research.” JaMarcus confessed.
Cassandra's pride, her white pride, made her huff and storm out to the staircase. “Everything you just said was wrong!”
JaMarcus did not move an inch to stop her. But he did say, “Go ahead and leave. I'll even put in a good word for you with Monique. But Monique … will see you're not entirely 'comfortable' with black men. Especially, those who want to fuck white girls.”
JaMarcus didn't say it but Monique would think Cassandra as racist without that improved attitude. What could she do and not have sex with black men? She had no choice but work with JaMarcus, “There has to be another way. What do I have to do? JaMarcus simply answered, “Go down there … and dance. Don't mind anyone. Make yourself comfortable, Cassandra.” After a pause without Cassandra answering, JaMarcus threw his hand, “Or go ahead and pick up your clothes and go home. But if you want me to fuck you, make up your mind soon before I choose someone else. The Goth chick is starting to show attitude.”
Cassandra snickered, “I'm finished here.” She took the steps down from the attic.
JaMarcus took a deep breath. He thought he was close getting a fresh piece of ass. JaMarcus swung his left hand across his hardened groin trying to settle it down, “Gawd-damn it!” He then grunted and threw his hips. JaMarcus took another deep breath and looked into the VIP room below. It looked like another weekday night with the club making money hand over fist. The black victories happening there were common and frequent. It was almost boring. The manager took the stairs and walked through the curtains into his office. Looking over at the couch, Cassandra's bag with her “day clothes” was still there waiting for her. “Where did the white girl go?” he asked himself. JaMarcus walked out into the club, past the bar, and looked to the stage. To his surprise, he saw prancing on stage was Cassandra!
Cassandra walked in heels alone to the tune of low volume rap music that was dying down in its final verse. The jukebox played the next selection in its queue and filled the lounge with “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”. JaMarcus stepped into the shadows and watched from a distance, curious what would happen next.
The next song began. It was a sexually-fueled rap song. Cassandra looked up and lifted her right heel and began swinging her hips. She strutted from one end of the stage to the other. Cassie leaned against the stripper pole, closed her eyes and and ran her hands down the side of her body giving attention to her curves. “Fuck it!” she said to herself and unclasped the single button on her vest and pulled it open to reveal her beautiful breasts. Cassandra pushed out her chest getting the attention of every black man in the room. Her vest dropped to the floor and she didn't wait another second to push down her blue mini-skirt.
There was an applause and an enthusiastic “Yes!” from the crowd that fueled Cassie's confidence. She made another circle around the stage with her arms straight and aimed to the floor. Cassandra made no attempt to hide her breasts from the many piercing looks. She went back to the pole and leaned her left shoulder against it. With her back arched, she put her ass to the room and and slapped it with her right hand.
Cassandra felt a “ping” against her ass. It felt like a mosquito bite, short and painless. She made her first dollar. Swinging her ass left and right, she felt it was time. No longer just a wife and working professional, she was a white girl who gave herself to the room. “It's coming off!” she thought to herself before peeling her g-string down her thighs and falling to her ankles. Cassandra looked over her shoulder and saw nothing but lights and silhouettes. But she taunted the room with her pussy and her ass she swung left and right … left and right. “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”.
Gripping the pole with her left hand, she made one circle before pressing her breasts against the brass. Balls of 1's, started dropping on the stage next to her. In all the excitement and attention, she licked the pole like a dirty whore! Then in her final act, during the final verse of beautiful rap, she turned to face the room and squatted. Her back pressed against the cold pole behind her as she lowered her body until her ass was below her knees. She opened her legs and started rubbing her clit and masturbated for the room. Her free hand squeezed a breast to the delight of the audience. Cassandra crossed her eyes in instant delirium feeling liberated as the other white girls busy in the VIP room. She was free from judgment, free from white-morality, free to be an object looked to and wanted for nothing but sex! Meanwhile, JaMarcus rubbed his chin in surprise. He didn't think she had it in her.
When the music stopped, the silence broke Cassandra out of her trance. Her eyes popped open and she had realized what a little tramp she had acted like. Her fact went white and pale, more than usual. She closed her knees and began scrambling to put on her g-string before gathering her clothes and all the little green notes. Cassandra rolled all of them into a ball and ran off stage with her clothes faster than Elvis. The lingering applause from the aroused patrons only reminded her of the debauchery. She was desperate for escape and made a straight line to JaMarcus's office hoping no one would approach her. Halfway there, Cassandra's feet froze to the carpet as she caught a black stranger looking at her.
From the comfort of his chair, the stranger looked back through his wide, mirrored sunglasses. He had wore an African-inspired, bright colored robe and a fez. The African looked like a warlord or diplomat and escorted by a couple of his staff wearing expensive Italian suits. It wasn't just his presence that startled Cassandra but how she caught herself in his glass's reflections. Cassandra noticed she looked no different than the strippers working the floor. She was far from the respectful and influential attorney not to mention the faithful wife. For a moment, there was no music only a racial connection between the almost-nude Cassandra and the African warlord. A raw, animal bonding between a strong male and a woman. The warlord clasped his hands and nodded while his wingmen shook their fists. Cassandra lifted her heels feeling heavy and clumsy and hurried to the office.
Meanwhile, JaMarcus smiled and shook his head. “Sheeeet ….” he muttered to himself. Some of the ladies made appearances out of the VIP room and to the dressing room. In short time, the club would have a white girl or two on stage in its final few hours before close. But JaMarcus still had some strip club management to do.
Cassandra never felt so humiliated. She surprised herself while feeling both confused and embarrassed. What got into her to act that way. She pushed her hands into her bag on the office couch and pulled out her respectful, “day clothes”. That was when JaMarcus strolled in and closed the door behind him. He made no effort to sneak up to her. JaMarcus wanted to know he was in the room. Cassandra sniffled, “Do I meet your approval?” she said sarcastically as she was struggling to choose which garment to put on first.
“Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm! You're a natural!” complimented JaMarcus as he approached her standing near the couch. “I'm not, trust me.” Cassandra said defending her self-respect. JaMarcus stepped behind Cassandra and wrapped his right arm around her waist. His left hand placed underneath her left breast and slowly working its way up.
Cassandra felt awkward and pleaded, “Stop.” But JaMarcus pressed his loins against her ass and she felt his massive bulge. Cassandra let out a hot gasp of air, “Ohhhh.” JaMarcus's left hand cupped her tit and at first, she tried to brush it away. But the stiffness in his pants distracted her. She knew very well what he was packaging. Feeling how good it felt, she gave up resisting JaMarcus's grope. JaMarcus put his nose into Cassie's neck making her feel blasts of hot air coming out of his nostrils. She reached back in a vain attempt to push JaMarcus's crotch from pressing her ass. Instead, she got a good grip of his cock.
“Please?” Cassandra whispered.
“Please, fuck you?” JaMarcus replied.
Cassandra shook her head and whispered. “We're not having sex.” Her fingers curled around JaMarcus's tubular organ while she continued resisting. JaMarcus began kissing Cassie's neck making her pant. She turned her head and the couple's lips met. Tongues flashed against each other before Cassandra turned her head away and looked ahead as JaMarcus fondled her breasts and ass. JaMarcus began to take more control and pushed her g-string down. Cassandra shifted her legs letting it slide past her knees and to the floor. It didn't take too much effort to step out of them.
JaMarcus momentarily released Cassandra to unbutton the top of his pants. His very-hungry black cock sprang out. JaMarcus gestured Cassie to grip it and she did without hesitation before he resumed flirting with his arms back around her. His fingers freely played with her left titty as Cassandra made one stroke of his cock. She felt the hot blood flowing through his manhood.
“You ready to get blacked, now?” JaMarcus pressed as his rubbery cock-head brushed against her. His hot balls pressed against Cassandra's ass. Cassandra then made two strokes of black cock and turned her head to JaMarcus so they could kiss once more. “We're not going to fuck. I'm married and I'm not risking my marriage and career for black supremacy.”
“It's totally worth it.” JaMarcus assured, “It's beautiful.” he said before continuing kissing her neck. “I'm sure it is.” Cassandra replied and she said further, “Turning us white girls into sluts so you can fuck us. Lot's of fun.” She gave three slow strokes of cock.
But Cassandra pleaded, “I'm not a black supremacist.”
“You will be.” JaMarcus promised.
“I … I will?” Cassandra wondered in a obviously teasing voice. That riled JaMarcus. He insisted, “Enough of the teasing, Cassie. I need to dump some cum, now! Get down and suck that black dick.”
Stroke … stroke … tug and pull did Cassandra to JaMarcus's hard organ.
Then she stopped because it was time to end the flirting, the bullshit, the conversion. Cassandra let go of JaMarcus's cock and looked him in the eyes, “I'm proud of being white, JaMarcus. I'm not a slut for black men to put their cocks in all my fuck-holes.”
JaMarcus reminded her, “You are.”
Startled at his honesty, Cassandra had little to say other than, “Is that so?” It was apparent, he had no respect for her intelligence. She meant nothing to him other than the single purpose of being a cum dumpster before being pushed aside for the next white girl. This was black supremacy lived to its fullest.
JaMarcus said nothing in reply but a single nod. Cassie conceded she would get no further with JaMarcus in his strip club. There was nothing else for the attorney to do. So Cassie said, “Well … in that case ...”
Cassandra turned to face JaMarcus and dropped her knees to the floor. Staring at his black cock, pulsating in sexual excitement and need, she parted her lips and aimed her mouth as she leaned into his loins. The black cock slid over her tongue. She closed her lips and began pleasing her man … her black man.
The flavor, the taste of a real man, was overpowering and more erotic and sexual pleasing than she could had imagined. The twirl running through her head was mind-blowing and addictive. It wasn't anything as demeaning and so unsatisfying when she cared to give her husband a marital blow-job. The sweaty, organic flesh made her feel dirty but the pheromones gave her an instant high Cassandra couldn't get enough of. “Slurphhh, slurphhh ...” she went on black dick with her hands on JaMarcus's thighs. She loved it. She loved it. She loved it! Her eyes crossed, her mind emptied … she was in a happy place!
Cassandra looked up when JaMarcus put his hand on the top of her head. “Be that whore, white girl!” he told her. After she fed her mouth for several moments, they made eye contact. Cassandra needed to see that satisfied, empowered look on his face. She wanted to please him more than Anna. Cassandra licked his balls as she stroked him with her right hand. Lap-lap-lap went her tongue under JaMarcus's heavy testicles. She was in love as she had never seen balls as large on any white boy. As her hand went up and down fast and faithful on his black dick, Cassandra felt slutty and needed to feel this way. She surprised herself for loving it so. When she put the black organ back into her mouth and pushed it to the back of her throat. She growled while shivering her head side to side like a porn star.
JaMarcus growled too. “Damn! You want to be a black cock slut, don't you?”
Cassandra pulled her head back and took a deep breath, “Fuck, yeah! Make it happen!”
JaMarcus grabbed the base of his cock and started tapping, whipping it across Cassandra's happy face. Slap. Slap. Slap. It went across her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. When he through with her face, he began tapping both her breasts. It felt heavy dropping on her titties. “Is your white hubby man enough to do this to ya?” he asked. Cassandra just smiled with her lips apart. She gasped and shook her head. Cassandra was about ashamed of having a white husband. She was now black cock crazy!
At JaMarcus's wishes, Cassandra put her ass on the couch. Her chin was wet with spittle and she wasn't a bit embarrassed. JaMarcus knelt between her legs and pushed back her thighs. He lowered her head and began eating pussy. JaMarcus was a sexually-hungry black man, an alpha male. It took a room full of sex-addicted white girls to keep him sated. Cassandra was special though. While she was incredibly attractive, in the old ,white-European standards, JaMarcus found her too arrogant and too irresistible not fuck up her life, her privilege, and her marriage. Cassandra, stupid-minded, felt nothing but pleasure. JaMarcus's lips and tongue was hungry and furious giving her relentless waves of excitement. She felt euphoric knowing she had something the black man wanted and needed. Cassandra began to understand what it meant to lose ownership of your pussy to the black race. She chirped like a bird and ran her hands over the top of his head.
JaMarcus crawled up and the couple kissed. Cassandra's hands palmed both of his cheeks as they grunted. Tongues danced. The races came together … white submission … black dominance. “Tell me you want to get blacked, Cassie.” whispered JaMarcus. He had to know he broke her. Cassie nodded with round, puppy-eyes “I want this. I need to get blacked!” JaMarcus slid down with his knees on the floor. He pushed on Cassandra's milky-white thighs because he wanted to see her spread her legs for him. JaMarcus tapped the meat of his cock on her pussy, mashing her clit. Cassandra took a deep breath in anticipating and covered her mouth with her left hand.
JaMarcus tapped Cassandra's pussy with his hard dick and telling her, “I wanted to fuck you ever since I saw you at the boutique. Didn't figure you'd be this easy.” Cassandra about giggled and thought to herself, “This is happening! This is happening!” She was about to give up her marital vows and betray her race for black cock. It felt wonderful! Her ring brushed against her lips and she didn't want to be faithful to her husband or to her race anymore. She wanted to lose to “the black man”. Then … her wish came true.
“Uggh … ah … ummph!” grunted Cassandra as she felt her pussy stretch. JaMarcus leaned forward and saw his fat, purple cock-head disappear and plopped inside Cassie's tight, little snatch. Cassandra needed to catch her breath. The size, girth, and its black steel was more than she imagined it would be. She second-guessed herself if she could really take it like the white girls in all the porn she watched. Cassandra gasped again and turned her head. Squeezing a breast she mumbled, “...fuck me … fuck me ...”. JaMarcus snorted and slowly pushed, making room inside her womb. “You'll never be the same, Cassie ...” whispered JaMarcus with both hands gripping her hips. He pushed in another couple inches as Cassie opened her mouth wide and let out a deep breath. “Pussy ... so tight!” he commented.
“Please, go slow!” begged Cassie.
“Your little dick white boys don't know how to fuck you right.” JaMarcus teased and plowed again. “It's so fuckin' huge!” cried Cassie as she felt the monster organ fill her womb. She let out a shudder and a moan hoping it would make things better but there was so much to JaMarcus's big, black cock he had a few more inches to give. “Ah, yes! Yeah! Fuck, yeah!” JaMarcus celebrated as he fed his deserving cock the pussy it needed. “The married, white girl is giving it up!”
Cassandra took a series of short breaths. She felt and thought of nothing but dick. Good dick. She turned to her lover and they met nose-to-nose. JaMarcus had pushed every inch of his manhood inside of her. He was now balls-deep and taking his time. “You're blacked!” he told her. Cassandra was unable to voice any words too preoccupied with her “fullness”. It didn't dawn on her she was fully “cheating” on her husband, Kenneth. Another man had taken her pussy by putting his huge organ inside her … fucking her … changing her.
JaMarcus bucked his hips giving his white girl a good short burst of cock. He whispered to her, ”Now, I'm gonna fuck you.” He gave her a lunge, “Like that!” He gave her another, “Like that!” In reply, Cassie could only moan after each stroke penetrating her. However, there were limits to JaMarcus's patience. Needing pussy with balls full of thick, warm cum to drop, JaMarcus began his “fucking”. Pushing in, slow stroke out … pushing in … fuck, fuck, fuck.
As much as it looked pornographic, it was truly beautiful. The strong, street smart, attractive black man was getting the pussy he needed. The white girl, whose heart was as open as her legs, dutifully surrendered her body. Her marriage and career meant nothing when it came to the sexual needs of the black man. The room, the lounge, the world was a better place with these two lovers enjoying the penetration of black manhood into a white womb. In a few short moments, just several thrusts of cock, did Cassandra understood she needed an interracial fuck as much as JaMarcus.
Cassandra placed her hands on JaMarcus's broad shoulders. She let out another groan of pleasure. No more, did she plead “slow”. She wanted “more”. “Your fuck-holes is why you're here on my couch.” JaMarcus told her … truth. He got up off his knees and used the balls of his feet to give him the leverage to continue driving his loins. JaMarcus buried his nose into Cassie's neck. Hot air blasted from his mouth when he wasn't teething on her neck.
“Oh fuck me, JaMarcus!” Cassandra moaned. “Fuck my white pussy. I want to be your slut!” she offered. JaMarcus kept going slamming his cock deep inside the tight pussy. Cassandra let out a sudden burst out of her mouth. JaMarcus figured she had already had her first orgasm. “No white boy will touch you now you're fucking black!” he told her.
Slam … slam … slam … JaMarcus kept his strong, dominant pace pushing his cock into Cassandra. Her husband couldn't last half or a fraction what JaMarcus was doing to her. Cassandra's body was getting fucked and used. Her open-mindedness to black, alpha-males was duly rewarded with sexual bliss and orgasmic purpose. This man could do anything he wanted with her and he was. “No white boy can fuck you like this … only black!” said JaMarcus enjoying his conquest. “I belong to you, baby! I'll leave my husband if you tell me!” Cassie offered. JaMarcus said nothing. He didn't love the white girl. He only needed her for pussy. It was his already.
Feeling she was talking too much, JaMarcus stood and pulled Cassandra to her knees. He wanted to see his wet, dirty cock back into her mouth. Cassie gladly obliged. With a stern face, JaMarcus nodded in approval. He expected to see the white girl obey. Cassie's eyes were full of life and energy. Tasting his dick, tasting herself made her feel deep down dirty-good. This was the sex she so badly needed and cursed at herself for not realizing earlier in her life. It was a blessing of black culture, of black power.
“Slap that tongue with my black cock ...” JaMarcus demanded. Of course, Cassie did. Holding it with her right hand, she missed her tongue the first time, instead hitting her nose. But she followed with good smacks and sent spit flying. This was something she would never do with her husband. And never will.
Cassandra was helped back up to the couch where she put her knees on the cushions. She leaned forward over the edge of the couch while JaMarcus gripped her hips from behind. Cassie took a deep breath, waiting for her lover's manhood to penetrate her again. She said in a very cutely voice, “... fuck me ...”
A slap across her ass reminded her she was made for black cock. Moments later, she felt JaMarcus enter her and pushed forward. Cassie's proud smile disappeared and replaced with a wince as the girth stretched her open again. JaMarcus threw his loins in like a spear. The forward lunge made Cassie chirp then moan. A firm hand gripped her breast and JaMarcus rested his nose into her chin. Like a piston, he moved his hips. In … out-in … out-in … he went.
“Every black man wants to fuck you … every black man wants to fuck you ...” JaMarcus whispered his chant. He was trying to get into her head as deep as in her pussy. In her delirious state of mind, it was more than a compliment to Cassandra. It was mind-opening advice. After JaMarcus told her the fourth time, she experienced another orgasm. She was prepared for more instruction. “I fuck you whenever I want … black men fuck you whenever they want ...” Exhausted, Cassandra nodded.
“Oh, fuuuucckkk!” Cassandra cried never imagining any man could last like this. With every thrust, nearly another foot of cock pushed into her womb. “Do you still love me, Cassie? Knowing I just want to use you?” Cassie could only grunt as her titties bounced underneath her. “Smack!” as a black hand went across her ass.
“Uh-huh.” mumbled Cassie. She was in love with a black man.
JaMarcus wanted to sit down and he took a place on his couch. Still in her heels, Cassie stumbled to straddle him, facing away in reverse-cowgirl. She lowered her ass and using her left hand to guide JaMarcus's black member. Cassie gave her first lap dance but it came with extras. JaMarcus's cock made its way inside much easier the third time. Her pussy was well well wet and stretched. It was like a giant spear giving her the drug she needed. Instead of giggling like a drunken co-ed, she let out a relieving gasp and moaning, “... yes … yes ...”
Watching her beautiful round ass drop into his groin, JaMarcus's hand went across it. SMACK. He demanded, “Work that cock, white girl! You're here to please the black man.” Cassandra let out an erotic moan conceding her purpose. She gyrated her hips and bucked up and down. Cassie rolled her eyes and smiled. It just felt so good to ride a hard, black dick. Her pussy was full, stretched, and fucked. Her body and soul was fucked. As so was her marriage, privilege, and white way of life. Cassandra grabbed her tits, squeezing them hard. “... I love you, JaMarcus ...” she whispered.
The room was a beautiful place in the world. A white girl was pleasing her black king, using her body to sexually please him. “Get me off, white girl! Get me off!” JaMarcus wanted. While the couple was getting close to racial climax, Goth Girl rushed in fully clothed …
“Hey, boss! I need to know ...” Goth Girl cut herself off in mid-sentence when she figured out what was happening on her manager's couch. She walked up to the couple, her hands on her hips, mouth open and speechless. The blonde wasn't at least bit startled or embarrassed, she just continued bouncing up and down as JaMarcus was obviously worked up and breathing heavy.
Goth Girl grabbed Cassandra by the chin and remarked with a single word, “Slut!” Cassandra turned to the Goth Girl and smiled, “Yeah.” she said in return.
“I'll come back when you're finished 'fucking' her!” said Goth Girl in a pissy voice before storming out of the room.
JaMarcus began bucking his hips slamming his loins into Cassie's cute, white ass. Their sweaty flesh slapped together making that sticky sound. JaMarcus grunted. Cassandra felt the veins in his cock expand and felt him twitching. She was going to make her black man cum! Another smack went across her ass, “Every black man wants to fuck you, babe!” said JaMarcus. Cassandra put her right index finger in her mouth and giggled.
“Aaaaagh!” yelled JaMarcus and a shot of hot cum splattered inside Cassandra's married womb. “Fuck that pussy!” he cursed, and another shot popped from the end of his cock. Cassie threw her head back. She had cum again and didn't hear another word JaMarcus had said to her. JaMarcus turned Cassie on her side on the couch. Spooning her, he mashed his body up against hers as much as he could with his cock inside her. “Take that cum! Take that cum.” he told her. Cassie only shivered as she felt absolute euphoria in the arms of her strong man. The interracial couple had mated.
The couple recovered for a few moments in each other's arms. While Cassandra knew she meant little more than a sex object to JaMarcus, she gave his chest several kisses. “I'll do anything for you.” she said. JaMarcus took his right hand and rubbed her ass. It felt smooth and tight. He took a deep breath through his nostrils and gave her a good smack on her ass.
“Go out there and make me some money.” he told her.
Cassandra looked at JaMarcus. She understood and accepted their relationship would take a new turn. The club jukebox began playing its next selection, “Boom-da-da-dum. Boom-da-da-dum”. The world had one more black supremacist.
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section.
