Save the Clinic! Episode 16
After spending less than a hour with black supremacists inside a strip club, Cassandra is blacked. Seduced by the culture, her betrayal of her marriage and race came easy. Having opened her mind and body to JaMarcus, she is willing to learn more about herself and her obligations to black men who want to fuck her.
Call her Cassie.
Cassandra, a cheating whore of a wife, put her lips to JaMarcus's firm chest. She gave it many tender kisses thanking him for the proper fucking he told her she needed Cassie snickered at her once prideful self. The power of black cock … had turned her. Though Cassie knew she was just fuck holes in JaMarcus's eyes, the moment they had together was precious. She not only bonded with JaMarcus but with every white girl supporting the ideals of black supremacy. The black cock that entered her … the things JaMarcus told her … re-living them in her head made her feel warm inside. Cassie would do anything for him for no other reason because he was black. She felt she understood the black man including his rightful and deserving needs. Her pussy was filled with JaMarcus's warm cream. No white man, including her husband, had ever fucked her like that. She could feel the semen of the black man more hot, more thick and sticky. It was clinging inside of her womb before dripping out. 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. At that moment, Cassie accepted she was “fucked”. There was nothing she could do about it. Nothing she would do to change it.
Elsewhere … Cassie's husband, Kenneth, had been calling and texting her. Kenneth had no idea his phone was buried underneath her street clothes while she was busy inside a strip club dressed like a black man's whore. He asked himself over and over again what went wrong between he and his wife recently. Cassandra had stormed out of the house complaining she was “working for racists” and needed late night research how to get out of it. Kenneth had no option but to sleep alone in his bed with his right palm as his best friend. Kenneth would be shocked if he had known how busy “Cassie” was without him.
At JaMarcus's asking, Porsche took Cassie by the hand to the dresser room where two wide shower stalls stood side by side in the back of the room. Porsche dropped her clothes and got naked first while Cassie was rubbing her arms trying to keep warm and wondering what had happened to her. All the lawyer had wanted was get a good word in for her so she could do her job. She thought all it would take was a couple of late night drinks before they would open the doors to The Black Power Movement for her. Instead, Cassie got laid, blacked and fucked and she loved it!
As Porsche took Cassie's clothes out of her hands and gestured her out of heels, she told the fucked lawyer, “You're beautiful! It's easy to see why JaMarcus wants you to work here. You're going to be busy.” Porsche told her.
“Busy?” Cassie whispered. Porsche nodded, “Yes … tonight and every night.”
The shower stall had a white, plastic chair inside and Porsche wanted Cassie to sit on it. Porsche got on her knees and tapped Cassandra's legs apart. Porsche enjoyed her first close look at Cassie's newly blacked pussy. It had a little patch of hair above but otherwise very trimmed, very groomed for sex. Milky beads of cum oozed out of her drawing Porsche's jealousy.
Porsche's hands reached around Cassie's ass and made her slide to the front edge of the chair. She palmed the inside of Cassandra's thighs and pushed them open. Surprising Cassie, she instinctively pushed out her swollen pussy into Porsche's face and all but invited her to come closer.
Cassie threw her hair back and moaned the moment Porsche buried her face and began lapping her cunt with her tongue. Porsche licked and loved Cassie's worn pussy getting every drop of JaMarcus's cum. Cassie took in a deep breath and grabbed a breast of hers. Being uptight she had closed her mind to bisexuality. But the lifestyle inside the lounge was quickly changing her. She looked down and saw how much pleasure her pussy was giving her and others.
“Mmmmm, Ja'Marcus's cum tastes so good!” said Porsche. Cassie let out another breath of hot air. Her hands ran through Porsche's hair in her attempt to thank her. Cassie was starting to understand that black cum, its baby-making sperm, was a prize craved after.
“Welcome to the club!” said Porsche before she went back to lapping up pussy. Cassie whined again and shivered to her ankles.
As the warm water splashed Cassie's body from above, Porsche rubbed her thumb through Cassie's small patch of pubic hair above her clit. She reached for a razor, looked up at Cassie with a smirk. Cassie was too euphoric or cock-***** to notice nor care. The razor brushed against the natural, blonde hair and was whisked away. Before she would help Cassie up to her feet, Porsche reached and grabbed a handful of tit. Porsche was sure the new girl would be kept very busy. After the shower, the two toweled each other dry. That was when Goth Girl ran into the dressing room, “All ladies to the VIP room, now! You too, new girl!” she told Cassie. The excitement in the air was electrifying.
New patrons had rushed inside
before the doors closed good for the night. They had money to burn and an undeniable need for pussy no matter how late the night turned. Goth Girl was surprised how sudden and unusually busy the place had become for a weeknight. Sporting nothing but boots and black shorts, she walked around getting one hand on her body after the other. She glanced over at JaMarcus hoping for a “what's up”, an answer behind the rush but JaMarcus just grinned back.
Porsche pulled Cassie by the hand out of the dressing room and took her to the stage when the music played. Cassie looked frazzled with newly washed hair and hurried make-up. She was a woman possessed. Porsche had perked up her eye liner and Cassie looked like a strung out vampire who hadn't slept in days.
Goth Girl was an experienced assistant manager. She knew how to handle white girls after an evening of entertainment. She urged every dancer to crowd into VIP room as impatient black men stood outside the doorway. Everything happened so fast, Cassie thought. Half-naked women were pressing their bodies against each other, trying to keep balance on their heels as they were rounded up like 19th century slaves herded into a special room. Cassie looked and caught a glimpse of a particular African warlord. Behind his mirrored glasses, he stared and nodded his approval.
“Last call!” cried the barkeep as the doorman locked the door behind him. Anyone looking to exit would have to make it past him. Some of the patrons rushed to the bar. Others scrambled to find Goth Girl to “get into line”.
Goth Girl gave her assurances to some of the impatient men but quickly turned her attention to the girls and told them to take a seat. Cassie took to Porsche's side and they shared a couch together. Meanwhile, a row of customers … black men marched in and took their places.
“You go with the blonde … and you take the MILF. You, sweetie, take the teen next to her.” said Goth Girl to the generous guests. Every man had a girl assigned to him and the clothes started dropping to the floor.
Cassie wasn't numb to the beautiful sex happening around her. She sat quiet, very naked, and very obedient on her couch. Porsche was busy getting groped by her gentleman. Cassie's “date” quickly undressed, exposed his cock, and rubbed it until it sprang in attention. Cassie didn't blink or turn away. She sat with her hands resting on her thighs. Meanwhile, Porsche had dropped to her knees and starting giving a blow job. Porsche was full of life smiling with her eyes as she fed her appetite for cock. Cassie's date stepped forward. Her eyes focused on the deep purplish cock-head aimed at her lips. It was plump and throbbing. With every bump, nook, and cranny on its flesh, Cassie saw her future. When her date put his hand behind her head, showing his dominant behavior, it triggered Cassie's equally submissive instincts. She let the hand guide her mouth closer to his hard, black dick. Cassie parted her lips, stuck out her tongue, and engulfed the dark-skinned manhood.
Smmmurph! Cassie went to work filling her mouth with spit and cock. She didn't forget the balls underneath that tempted her to lick them. Cassie felt needed again … needed for sex … needed for much deserved racial conquest. She lapped up his black balls thinking only of the pleasures given … whether they be sexual, spiritual, or racial.
With no other encouragement, Cassie was having sex with another black man. She and Porsche next to her was taking part in the interracial orgy. The room soon was filled with great love as black, masculine flesh worked out their desires into the flesh of white girls. Every thrust, every release of precious fluid was racial harmony.
June, the eighteen year-old slut, was on her back. Her legs were over another black gentleman's shoulder as he pushed his cock into her cunt. In and out he threw his mighty body. June looked exhausted but resorted to fulfilling her obligation to the club, to her customer, and to his race. Not too far away was her mother, Anna. Anna was bent over the couch as her lover was driving his dick deep into her. Mandy was in the corner of the room and straddling her man. She enjoyed another pair of black hands fondling her breasts as she rode him up and down. What made Mandy giggle was every time she was called a “slut”. Even Goth Girl took a man by the hand to an empty seat. Every black man who needed pussy was going to get some.
Cassie and Porsche were bent over their couch. Their knees pushed deep into the seat cushions. Each were getting fucked from behind. Each girl gasped and moaned as they felt cock thrust into them non-stop in confident rhythms. In the dim light, Cassie was no different than the other whores. She was just as much as a slut as Goth Girl turned out to be as she bounced up and down on her man's lap.
The two men, enjoying feeling their manhood inside Cassie and Porsche celebrated each other. “Fuck the whites! This is justice!” one called out. “Yeah, my brother!” his friend replied as they made high fives and high fists. Every other woman groaned because they felt a black dick inside them.
Cassie was turned over on her back … made to ride her lover reverse cowboy … turned round again with her ass deep into the seat with legs high in the air. She was going through a thorough fucking with a man who was ambitious and determined to express his seed into a white girl. He said next to nothing to Cassie other than what to do, sexually. That was enough.
When Cassie felt another hot blast of cum dump into womb, she let out a whine. It was both one of joy and surrender. She could have been in a warm bed next to her husband. Instead, she had chosen something very different. Cassie looked over to Porsche but she had already stepped out. All she could see was Goth Girl getting dressed while Anna was getting a mouthful of cock and hot cum. Anna's lover bucked his hips and told her, “Eat that spunk, white girl.” Light-headed, Cassie took several deep breaths. Her customer had already gathered his clothes and hopped out without a goodbye or an unnecessary “thanks”. She propped herself up on her elbows. That's when Goth Girl walked over to her.
“I'll bring the next customer waiting so you don't have to clean up.” Goth Girl explained. Still stunned, Cassie didn't quite grasp her commitment being a whore for the Black Fantasies Lounge. The Goth Girl returned quickly with another patron, a college athlete visiting from Inner City. “Here you go, sweetie. She's worth the wait!” Goth Girl bragged.
Cassie eyes popped open realizing another lover was expecting to fuck her. The young man's attractiveness couldn't help but be noticed. He had an athletic body, very firm and very fit. There was little doubt he could kick her husband's white ass. When the black athlete pulled off his pants, his hard cock dropped making Cassie's heart race. It made her instantly aroused. She was in disbelief she was horny already and couldn't deny her most primal, feminine drive and desires for a rock hard cock demanding pussy. “Are you ready for this?” the young man politely asked. Cassie, in a dream-like stance, happily nodded, and mumbled “Um, yeah.”
So started another round of sex for the married blonde. The number of girls in the VIP room slowly dwindled. One by one, other white girls left the club leaving Cassie alone. She was ******* there was a line outside waiting to get a piece of ass from the “new girl”. Goth Girl was raking in a premium, an up-charge solely enjoyed by the house, selling Cassie as “new, married, and stuck-up.” The line outside waiting to fuck a privileged, married, white girl only grew longer. Meanwhile, the African warlord kept his seat at his table enjoying the most expensive bottle of scotch the club stocked.
While Cassie surrendered her body to another black man, the club was long closed to the public. Only the select few hung around, waiting, waiting to get their chance at her. Cassie had no clue the VIP room and the club itself became a private party over her. She pretty much resorted giving up her pussy for one guest after another. Cassie would greet her next suitor with a blowjob before lying on her back and taking a good fuck missionary. She heard each pray to their race, the greatness of black, and cursed the white race of bigots. “Take it, slut!”, “Love that black dick, whore!” were a few samples how they spoke to her. One after the other shared their hatred of white racism by putting a part of them inside of her. Cassie put her arms around her lover's neck, whoever it was at the time. Her eyes focused beyond her left, ring finger. That little rock, symbolizing her love and faithfulness to her husband meant nothing. Her race meant nothing. Her career and marriage were equally devoid of importance. She was lost to the black man. Cassie mumbled, “... fuck me … fuck me ...”
Another splatter of hot cum spattered her face followed by another comment what a tramp or slut Cassie was. It didn't bother her. She simply rubbed the cum from her face and tits amazed of the stamina she had . Maybe, she had the body and energy for a whore all along. She would have discovered it earlier in life if it wasn't for her marriage.
Goth Girl walked inside with a bright smile looking all proud and knelt at Cassie's feet. She grinned and told Cassie, “You look beautiful! You're a hit with the guys! JaMarcus thinks you'll do well here.”
Cassie struggled to snap out of her sexual trance, “What … what have I done to myself?”
Goth Girl giggled and couldn't hold back any longer looking at the proud white girl. Goth Girl covered her mouth and began jerking in laughter, “Slut, you're a whore, now! You're a gawd-damn whore for black cock!” she told Cassie. The Goth-looking chick continued her laughter. Cassie was emotionless and said nothing in her defense, only silence.
The skies above Black Pine
turned light purple as the sun approached the eastern horizon. While one white girl's night was finally coming to an end, the day was only beginning for another. Pulling into the lot of the Migrant Hotel was Inner City 6 television reporter, Teagan T. Kayce. She was on a mission.
Located at the city outskirts off a state highway, the hotel was in the shadows of empty warehouses and storage buildings. Described as a larger-sized, three story building, the run-down hotel was once on the verge of demolition. However, it experienced renewal with the migrant relocation programs spearheaded by Mayor Sweet. Pool of forward thinking black entrepreneurs and charity organizations saved the establishment.
This was Teagan's first return to the “refugee camp” since her interview with Zara. With help from Zara and a couple migrants, Teagan went “woke” and embraced her racial obligations to the black race. She gladly traded her body for black men's pleasure if it would boost her career. Now, The Black Power Movement had someone of influence recruited. Teagan's career could take off as long as she worked hard on her back. While her future in journalism was still in doubt, her future in a black man's bed was not.
That morning of her return trip, Teagan was extremely serious about herself. She was anxious and hurried. Teagan felt she was running behind on research fighting oppression. Her on-going expose saving the Elimination Clinic made her a voice for racial justice. Promoting migrant empowerment could make her famous. It didn't occur to Teagan she was behind because she spent the prior evening with her black lover, Keyshawn. She could had been studying her notes, interviewing the movers and dreamers of Black Pine, or sharing a bed with her husband. Instead, the ambitious television personality rode a black cock through the evening into the morning.
Teagan enjoyed her hours with Keyshawn, receiving his gift of black cock. Her lover was confident, in control, and demanding. Keyshawn was relentless in the bedroom. His prowess expressed beyond the field to sex. The hours spent in different positions and sex acts did not slow or sate him. His steel, black manhood penetrated Teagan in ways a woman needed. It made its way into her mouth where Teagan tasted his lust. It pushed into her womb, feeling every vein of his throbbing cock needing to inseminate her. Not finished, Teagan surrendered her pink, little asshole and Keyshawn anally fucked her. The blonde had to feel his relentless passion. Teagan wailed in the night feeling the rage of the oppressed. The couple roared in erotic celebration as the black man conquered again. While she didn't apologize for being white, she paid for its racism. Teagan confessed to Keyshawn, having a black cock in her ass was the most important moment in her married life.
However, that was hours earlier. Teagan had come down from her sexual highs and had something to prove, professionally. Her cravings for black cock seemed to be satisfied. Dressed in heels, a cropped off shirt tight to the breasts, and even tighter black jean shorts – Teagan was dressed like a co-ed going on a binge. Though she was thinking all “business”, her wardrobe sent different signals about what she was really after. She marched towards the aged, three-story hotel. The epicenter of the city's African culture was strangely quiet. Where was the music? Where were the glowing circles of men and visiting white women sharing puffs of spiritual smokes.
There were a few high-dollar vehicles in the lot, too expensive for a migrant. Many had child seats. Teagan walked the lot around the building, hoping to bump into a migrant and ask a few questions. But nothing. Teagan turned her head to the highway when a semi blew their horn. Teagan took the stairs to the second floor. She felt warm as Teagan circled the room doors. Again, there was no one. Frustrated, she asked herself, “Is there a single African that will meet me?” Other than bed sheets, towels, and a variety of clothes draped over the rails, there were little other signs of life. Teagan let out a deep, frustrated breath. She wasn't ready to give up as she needed this too much. The reporter didn't make it out of her small, rural state by giving up. Teagan stormed up the stairs to the third floor. In her rush to find someone, she was winded. The stilettos at the bottom of her heels stamped the metal stairs making one loud “ping” after the other. From the highest floor of the hotel, she heard the Doppler-echoing sounds of vehicles on the nearby highway. The slight, morning breeze refreshed the flustered blonde. Teagan looked at each door as she walked by but they all were shut closed and quiet. Except … she heard something behind one of the doors at the corner. It was a groan, an erotic feminine groan often recognized between a woman and her black lover. Teagan heard the deeper voices but couldn't make out the words. Perhaps, it was spoken in a foreign tongue. But Teagan definitely understood the woman, urging “Fuck me … yes!” The woman grunted like how she grunted for Keyshawn … satisfied, used, and fucked. Teagan covered her mouth than grabbed a breast as she felt for her She understood what the unnamed woman inside was going through. The woman moaned louder before her voice was cut off. Time stood still inside the migrant's room as the white girl had a single, important purpose ... a purpose of providing sexual needs no African will be denied. Teagan was left imagining how much African cock was thrusting inside white pussy. The sly reporter saw first hand how fast the city was being belonging to the migrants. More deep voices spoke out. There had to be more than one African with her inside. “You want black cock, white girl?” said a deep, booming voice with an accent. The woman's reply was quick and emphatic, “Yes, I need it!”
Teagan put her right hand on the door knob. She had to see for herself. This was more than interracial passion, this could be used in her expose in the future of Black Pine or the world. She wanted to be there … inside … witnessing the birth of an Africa nation here in Black Pine. Teagan would participate, if that is what it took … anything for a story, anything for racial justice, anything for black rule. Teagan wouldn't wait any longer. The begging and passionate moans were too much and drew her to come inside. If there was a chance she could join on a good, interracial fucking, she would take it … no shame, no regrets. “Gawd, I want this!” Teagan said to herself. “I love you Keyshawn but … I'm a slut!” she confessed. She pushed down on the handle and it gave a quarter inch making her feel excited. Just a little more and it would pop open. There was something natural or super-natural when a group of black alpha men getting pussy that compelled her to offer her body to them. She was ready to push on the handle a little harder.
However, the handle wouldn't budge. Teagan was locked out. She had to take the disappointment hearing the white girl inside saying “... yes … yes … yes ...” before her mouth was gagged and muffled, her sexual bliss muted. Feeling the energy inside but unable to enjoy it, the blonde grabbed one her breasts. Teagan turned around … where she saw … him! A nearly naked, beautiful African!
The migrant was tall, muscular, and fucking arrogant. He was Sipho, the African militant. Sipho was a soldier, mercenary, a loyal fighter for African, nationalistic causes on his home continent. After many successful campaigns redistributing land, wealth, and political power from white colonists to the African people, he had immigrated to Sweden to bring his methods of black prosperity into a country that desperately needed it. When the news of white racists uprising in Black Pine, the mighty Sipho relocated and joined his brothers and kin in the Migrant Hotel. In Black Pine, he had plenty of opportunities to fuck the culture of white people and take its women as prizes and reparations.
Sipho peered at Teagan with hunter's eyes with primal need and lust. He was wearing only a worn, cream-colored towel just like one you expect hanging on the rack of a budget hotel. The towel was barely large enough to cover his loins yet small enough to get Teagan's attention. Teagan was startled but soon very intrigued by the half-naked African standing before her. She laid an index finger on her bottom lip imagining the “possibilities”.
Sipho stepped up close to Teagan. “Why you alone, white girl? Why you not in room pleasing Africans?” he asked. That voice! It was so presumptuous, commanding, and dominating. Teagan about swooned and muttered, “I'm Teagan … I'm a reporter researching white bigotry ...”
But Sipho wasn't interested in the white girl acting all smart and ignorant. He stepped up close to the blonde and placed his rather large right palm on her chest just below her smooth-skinned neck. “This is Africa! You have no rights here.” Sipho told her.
Teagan cleared her throat wanting to reassure him. “I'm not looking for rights ...” she tried to explain. Sipho's hand slid up and he slowly curled his fingers around her delicate throat. Teagan felt electrical excitement. The more vulnerable she felt in his shadow the more aroused she became. She said nothing waiting for the African to begin squeezing his grip.
“I don't want rights ...” Teagan wheezed, trying to catch air. She raised the bottom of her cut-off shirt intentionally pushing it over her titties exposing them. Her nipples were obviously showed excitement. “See?” she added, wondering how the African would respond. Though his sexual frustrations were growing rapidly, Sipho was patient. In his confidence, he studied the white girl, his sexual prey, before his pounce. He took notice on her body made to entice sexually aggressive men. Sipho's decision was quick and his reasoning very understanding. Sipho leaned in, his nose touching hers. He released his grip from her throat and moved one hand over her breast, the other firmly on her ass. The couple kissed, tongues furiously danced with one another. Sipho then took a deep breath and immediately mouthed her left breast. As he was making loud suckling sounds, he fondled her right breast while his other arm wrapped her waist, keeping her close.
Teagan threw back her head and put her hands around Sipho. He was much taller than the other black lovers. She was in the arms of a hero who likely fought countless white colonists in battle taking their homes, property, and wives. Sipho whispered into Teagan's ear, eager to hear his voice, “You whore for Africans?” Teagan giggled at the blunt question. But she nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I am.” she answered as Sipho's black hands gripped and groped her breasts. There was denying it. Her television career couldn't cover her place in a black man's world or an African tribe.
Like a magic trick, Sipho's towel unclasped and dropped to the floor. His nearly foot-long cock twitched and rocketed itself into an impressive, if not angry, erection. Teagan's eyes dropped. The blonde gasped and shuddered at the sight of Sipho's black manhood extremely ready to fuck. Very ready to fuck! Sipho looked deep into Teagan's eyes intrigued how she was becoming hypnotized. Teagan's lips parted. A drop of drool slid over the corner of her lower lip caught by her tongue. Sipho stepped back one step and gestured at this bouncing cock. “On your knees and please me.” he told her.
A warm wind breezed through Teagan's hair as she took in what the African's demand of her. She made eye contact with him before her attention drifted to his manhood. That black cock was waiting to fuck her. Her pussy tightened yet excited at the idea of it penetrating deep inside her. Gawd, what a slut she would be if she took that. The skin was dark as night … veins twitched flowing with blood. Its cock-head was plump and purple and the size of a snake's head waiting to hiss. Sipho's patience had run out and he said loudly, “Now!”
After another semi horn blared its echo, Teagan's knees dropped to the concrete in front of Sipho. She gave the cock a close look and planted a kiss on the shaft. Teagan gripped the cock and stroked it up and down. Teagan shuddered again at his size and massive weight. “Uh, oh … shit!” she muttered. Sipho made an angry growl. Teagan had no time left to waste and pushed Sipho's cock into her mouth. “Grummph!”
Smuck, slop, slossh! Teagan pushed as much cock into her mouth as she could. Her mouth was stretched open. The cock head rubbed hard against the roof of her mouth as it pushed heavy on her tongue. Teagan bobbed her head slowly then fast then slow again assuring the African there was nothing more important than his pleasure. Sipho placed a hand around her head and looked up into the heavens and let out a sigh of relief. Teagan gagged when Sipho bucked his hips.
Teagan gave attention to his heavy balls. They dropped on the top on her nose as she lapped them. The masculine scent, signaling its need for pussy, was perfume to Teagan. She needed more of it. Teagan smiled and let out a long “ahhh...” enjoying the flavor of its flesh. When she returned to sucking cock, Sipho had two hands placed on her cheeks and began face fucking her. When he wasn't looking at Teagan's pretty face, he looked back up and blessed Africa. He bucked his hips confidently using Teagan's mouth as a wet hole to slide his cock in and out. Her gags and moaning pleas meant nothing to him. When he felt like it, he pulled his cock out and dropped it on Teagan's face … “plop”, “plop”.
After the African displayed his unquestioned dominance, he told the white girl to stand and lean over the railing. Sipho pulled down Teagan's tight shorts. The slut was without panties and it didn't surprise Sipho one least bit. Teagan helped him by wiggling her ass making her shorts drop to the floor. When she stepped out of them, she saw her pants fly over the railing and drop three stories below. “My keys!” she complained. Sipho decided she had no use of them and so he tossed him. The migrant also decided to bury his nose into Teagan's pussy from behind and began licking her cunt. Teagan moaned and looked over at the highway. Her knees quivered and her heart raced making her body feverish. She stuck out her ass and arched her back encouraging her African to taste more … to take more from her. Teagan groaned incoherently as Sipho's hot tongue licked and lapped her up. She felt aroused and excited. Frustrated and heated, Teagan crossed her arms and pulled off her top. She released her hold on her shirt and it joined her pants below.
Teagan leaned over the railing on the third floor of the hotel looking over the highway. Any trucker with a good mobile phone could snap a naked picture of her. What a scandal that would be! But Teagan didn't care. Her African was entitled to take everything from her, including her career. Standing in only her heels she felt Sipho's rough hands run up her thigh, grip her hips, before she felt the rubbery tip against her clit. His right palm was flat above her tail bone before ...
“Aggh! Fuck!” Teagan whelped when Sipho stretched her open with just his cock-head. But he pressed in, pushed further, getting what he needed. Submissive, white pussy. “Gawd-damn! It's fuckin' huge!” Teagan barked out. She looked over her shoulder to look at Sipho hoping to make a connection with him. Maybe, he will be more gentle?
No.
Teagan discovered bluntly how much Sipho was in charge. He lunged forward again with no other reason but to sate his sex drive. “Agggh! Ah! Oh … fuck me!” Teagan cried as Sipho's magical cock made room inside her hot womb. Sipho bucked his loins hard and forced several more inches of him inside of her. A good slap went across Teagan's ass. It was a sharp, bitter pain but Teagan felt his ownership. “Whore, you serve Africans!” he declared in a loud, booming voice. Teagan could only muster a meek reply, “... yes ...” Sipho grabbed a handful of blonde hair and threw his hips into his conquest. It was something he had done thousands of times. “... ugh … ugh … ugh ...” he grunted. Teagan wiped the sweat from her forehead, arched her back, and looked up into the skies. She could do nothing but take the fucking. Take his large organ inside of her. The two bodies of black and white were one. With a demanding push driven by the African, Teagan rolled her eyes and let out a defeated gasp. Sipho nodded, approving his work on the white girl. Her pale, round ass was pleasing to his eyes at it wiggled each time it cushioned his loins. The African growled though, still frustrated knowing it would take a while before he would release. Teagan's left hand turned bleach white as she gripped the rails hard. She gritted her teeth but couldn't resist letting out another primal grunt. A firm black hand grabbed her right breast and she put her hand on his. Teagan's knees buckled as she felt a hot wave across her body. She felt a comforting, orgasmic wave as a reward for mating an African. Sipho kissed Teagan's neck and spoke in his dialect. It sounded poetic in both romantic and possessive ways. Did he tell her that he loved her? Or did Sipho remind her she was merely the tribal fuck toy?
Sipho wasn't near finished, plop-plop-plop, did he continue to fuck Teagan. His pace was steady and confident. He gave her another slap on her ass simply to remind her she was there to be fucked. Teagan mumbled something incoherent like a dumb animal. Joining the highway noise and the breeze, was a chorus of clicks and snaps. Three migrants strolled the top floor and watched the live mating between the militant and his prize. They watched the sex in front of them as casual as watching the sunrise. The clicks were made with their tongues. The snaps made by their fingers. Each of the migrants were recently awoke, wearing little but boxers or a towel. But in moments, they calmly dropped their garments and patiently waited their turns. While Teagan was occupied with three of Sipho's fingers in her mouth, the watching migrants pulled out an old, twin sized striped mattress from one of their rooms. They dropped the mattress on the floor next to Sipho, who knew what to do.
On her knees, ass up, Teagan put her forearms and cheek on the mattress. Sipho stood behind her, his feet planted flat. He squatted, legs spread wide, and guided his massive cock inside of Teagan's pussy. Teagan moaned at first, feeling more complete with Sipho inside of her than not. Soon, Sipho started his maddening pace working his ass like a piston. The other migrants chanted, “For Africa!” in their native dialect.
“White pussy belongs to our people! To Africans!” Sipho cheered. Teagan replied with another whine. Her eyes shut, her mouth gaping open, she was lost in African lust. Her nipples rubbed against the worn mattress making her feel even more aroused. Teagan shook and shivered. She felt the orgasm take birth from her womb and work outwards across her body and soul. Her groans went from low to high pitched. While she didn't hear Sipho curse her race, she did feel the streams of hot semen drop and dump inside of her. The load was excessive, the sperm felt “heavy”, and moved deep into her womb flooding her pussy with African nectar. Sipho pushed forward, leaned back, and pushed forward three more times before pulling out for good. He rubbed his wet cock across Teagan's ass and gave it a final slap. Sipho picked up the towel off the floor and walked off.
Teagan laid quiet trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her pussy feeling how sopping wet it was. But Teagan saw the black toes inching towards her. She propped herself up on her hands until she stood on her knees. A black cock was ready and stared at her. Her right hand instinctively gripped it and gave it a few tugs. Teagan raised her chin with a faux-innocent look on her face. She acknowledged that the world was full of women would do or pay anything to have her experience. Especially, in a world run by African kings. Teagan whispered to herself, “I'm a whore for Africa.” and accepted the migrant cock into her mouth. The other migrants stepped up and circled Teagan and the mattress. Happy, victorious clicking sounds resumed.
“Damn, white girl! You look good!”, said Monique.
Monique praised Cassie as the blonde walked up and down the boutique in an outfit made of a mini-skirt, a tube top, and high-heeled boots. Cassie made it to the store as soon as it opened. Inside, Cassie strutted with pride and confidence in her new outfit. She swung her hips with a hand on her right hip. The bottom of her ass was clearly visible enticing men and women alike. Cassie knew this and it made her euphoric.
“You look like you just got the best dick in your life!” noticed Monique who had a wide smile on her face. She couldn't stop thinking of the size of charges she'll ring up on the blonde's credit card.
Cassie gave Monique an evil grin, “Maybe, I did.” She bent both knees and sprung up, “Do I get a meeting with The Movement?”
Monique nodded, “Oh, you're ready.”
Cassie giggled like a school girl as she stared at herself in the mirror, “They're going to get everything they want! I can't wait to tell them!” Cassie was falling in love with herself and the sex she was giving to black men. She was so engrossed with herself, she barely noticed Monique going on about the BPM. “We're stronger with The Black Power Movement. It's a fucking lightning rod for racial justice.” said Monique.
Cassie snapped herself out her self-induced trance, “It's a fantastic organization! I believe in everything they stand for.” The blonde then twirled on her heels looking at her figure. Cassie added, “Can you make the appointment late in the evening? I want to put in a few more hours at the club this afternoon?”
Monique smiled again. “Thinking about making a career change, are we? You gonna be a stripper?”
Cassie looked back. Her smile disappeared and she never looked so serious. “I am a stripper.”
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.
After spending less than a hour with black supremacists inside a strip club, Cassandra is blacked. Seduced by the culture, her betrayal of her marriage and race came easy. Having opened her mind and body to JaMarcus, she is willing to learn more about herself and her obligations to black men who want to fuck her.
Call her Cassie.
Cassandra, a cheating whore of a wife, put her lips to JaMarcus's firm chest. She gave it many tender kisses thanking him for the proper fucking he told her she needed Cassie snickered at her once prideful self. The power of black cock … had turned her. Though Cassie knew she was just fuck holes in JaMarcus's eyes, the moment they had together was precious. She not only bonded with JaMarcus but with every white girl supporting the ideals of black supremacy. The black cock that entered her … the things JaMarcus told her … re-living them in her head made her feel warm inside. Cassie would do anything for him for no other reason because he was black. She felt she understood the black man including his rightful and deserving needs. Her pussy was filled with JaMarcus's warm cream. No white man, including her husband, had ever fucked her like that. She could feel the semen of the black man more hot, more thick and sticky. It was clinging inside of her womb before dripping out. 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. At that moment, Cassie accepted she was “fucked”. There was nothing she could do about it. Nothing she would do to change it.
Elsewhere … Cassie's husband, Kenneth, had been calling and texting her. Kenneth had no idea his phone was buried underneath her street clothes while she was busy inside a strip club dressed like a black man's whore. He asked himself over and over again what went wrong between he and his wife recently. Cassandra had stormed out of the house complaining she was “working for racists” and needed late night research how to get out of it. Kenneth had no option but to sleep alone in his bed with his right palm as his best friend. Kenneth would be shocked if he had known how busy “Cassie” was without him.
At JaMarcus's asking, Porsche took Cassie by the hand to the dresser room where two wide shower stalls stood side by side in the back of the room. Porsche dropped her clothes and got naked first while Cassie was rubbing her arms trying to keep warm and wondering what had happened to her. All the lawyer had wanted was get a good word in for her so she could do her job. She thought all it would take was a couple of late night drinks before they would open the doors to The Black Power Movement for her. Instead, Cassie got laid, blacked and fucked and she loved it!
As Porsche took Cassie's clothes out of her hands and gestured her out of heels, she told the fucked lawyer, “You're beautiful! It's easy to see why JaMarcus wants you to work here. You're going to be busy.” Porsche told her.
“Busy?” Cassie whispered. Porsche nodded, “Yes … tonight and every night.”
The shower stall had a white, plastic chair inside and Porsche wanted Cassie to sit on it. Porsche got on her knees and tapped Cassandra's legs apart. Porsche enjoyed her first close look at Cassie's newly blacked pussy. It had a little patch of hair above but otherwise very trimmed, very groomed for sex. Milky beads of cum oozed out of her drawing Porsche's jealousy.
Porsche's hands reached around Cassie's ass and made her slide to the front edge of the chair. She palmed the inside of Cassandra's thighs and pushed them open. Surprising Cassie, she instinctively pushed out her swollen pussy into Porsche's face and all but invited her to come closer.
Cassie threw her hair back and moaned the moment Porsche buried her face and began lapping her cunt with her tongue. Porsche licked and loved Cassie's worn pussy getting every drop of JaMarcus's cum. Cassie took in a deep breath and grabbed a breast of hers. Being uptight she had closed her mind to bisexuality. But the lifestyle inside the lounge was quickly changing her. She looked down and saw how much pleasure her pussy was giving her and others.
“Mmmmm, Ja'Marcus's cum tastes so good!” said Porsche. Cassie let out another breath of hot air. Her hands ran through Porsche's hair in her attempt to thank her. Cassie was starting to understand that black cum, its baby-making sperm, was a prize craved after.
“Welcome to the club!” said Porsche before she went back to lapping up pussy. Cassie whined again and shivered to her ankles.
As the warm water splashed Cassie's body from above, Porsche rubbed her thumb through Cassie's small patch of pubic hair above her clit. She reached for a razor, looked up at Cassie with a smirk. Cassie was too euphoric or cock-***** to notice nor care. The razor brushed against the natural, blonde hair and was whisked away. Before she would help Cassie up to her feet, Porsche reached and grabbed a handful of tit. Porsche was sure the new girl would be kept very busy. After the shower, the two toweled each other dry. That was when Goth Girl ran into the dressing room, “All ladies to the VIP room, now! You too, new girl!” she told Cassie. The excitement in the air was electrifying.
New patrons had rushed inside
before the doors closed good for the night. They had money to burn and an undeniable need for pussy no matter how late the night turned. Goth Girl was surprised how sudden and unusually busy the place had become for a weeknight. Sporting nothing but boots and black shorts, she walked around getting one hand on her body after the other. She glanced over at JaMarcus hoping for a “what's up”, an answer behind the rush but JaMarcus just grinned back.
Porsche pulled Cassie by the hand out of the dressing room and took her to the stage when the music played. Cassie looked frazzled with newly washed hair and hurried make-up. She was a woman possessed. Porsche had perked up her eye liner and Cassie looked like a strung out vampire who hadn't slept in days.
Goth Girl was an experienced assistant manager. She knew how to handle white girls after an evening of entertainment. She urged every dancer to crowd into VIP room as impatient black men stood outside the doorway. Everything happened so fast, Cassie thought. Half-naked women were pressing their bodies against each other, trying to keep balance on their heels as they were rounded up like 19th century slaves herded into a special room. Cassie looked and caught a glimpse of a particular African warlord. Behind his mirrored glasses, he stared and nodded his approval.
“Last call!” cried the barkeep as the doorman locked the door behind him. Anyone looking to exit would have to make it past him. Some of the patrons rushed to the bar. Others scrambled to find Goth Girl to “get into line”.
Goth Girl gave her assurances to some of the impatient men but quickly turned her attention to the girls and told them to take a seat. Cassie took to Porsche's side and they shared a couch together. Meanwhile, a row of customers … black men marched in and took their places.
“You go with the blonde … and you take the MILF. You, sweetie, take the teen next to her.” said Goth Girl to the generous guests. Every man had a girl assigned to him and the clothes started dropping to the floor.
Cassie wasn't numb to the beautiful sex happening around her. She sat quiet, very naked, and very obedient on her couch. Porsche was busy getting groped by her gentleman. Cassie's “date” quickly undressed, exposed his cock, and rubbed it until it sprang in attention. Cassie didn't blink or turn away. She sat with her hands resting on her thighs. Meanwhile, Porsche had dropped to her knees and starting giving a blow job. Porsche was full of life smiling with her eyes as she fed her appetite for cock. Cassie's date stepped forward. Her eyes focused on the deep purplish cock-head aimed at her lips. It was plump and throbbing. With every bump, nook, and cranny on its flesh, Cassie saw her future. When her date put his hand behind her head, showing his dominant behavior, it triggered Cassie's equally submissive instincts. She let the hand guide her mouth closer to his hard, black dick. Cassie parted her lips, stuck out her tongue, and engulfed the dark-skinned manhood.
Smmmurph! Cassie went to work filling her mouth with spit and cock. She didn't forget the balls underneath that tempted her to lick them. Cassie felt needed again … needed for sex … needed for much deserved racial conquest. She lapped up his black balls thinking only of the pleasures given … whether they be sexual, spiritual, or racial.
With no other encouragement, Cassie was having sex with another black man. She and Porsche next to her was taking part in the interracial orgy. The room soon was filled with great love as black, masculine flesh worked out their desires into the flesh of white girls. Every thrust, every release of precious fluid was racial harmony.
June, the eighteen year-old slut, was on her back. Her legs were over another black gentleman's shoulder as he pushed his cock into her cunt. In and out he threw his mighty body. June looked exhausted but resorted to fulfilling her obligation to the club, to her customer, and to his race. Not too far away was her mother, Anna. Anna was bent over the couch as her lover was driving his dick deep into her. Mandy was in the corner of the room and straddling her man. She enjoyed another pair of black hands fondling her breasts as she rode him up and down. What made Mandy giggle was every time she was called a “slut”. Even Goth Girl took a man by the hand to an empty seat. Every black man who needed pussy was going to get some.
Cassie and Porsche were bent over their couch. Their knees pushed deep into the seat cushions. Each were getting fucked from behind. Each girl gasped and moaned as they felt cock thrust into them non-stop in confident rhythms. In the dim light, Cassie was no different than the other whores. She was just as much as a slut as Goth Girl turned out to be as she bounced up and down on her man's lap.
The two men, enjoying feeling their manhood inside Cassie and Porsche celebrated each other. “Fuck the whites! This is justice!” one called out. “Yeah, my brother!” his friend replied as they made high fives and high fists. Every other woman groaned because they felt a black dick inside them.
Cassie was turned over on her back … made to ride her lover reverse cowboy … turned round again with her ass deep into the seat with legs high in the air. She was going through a thorough fucking with a man who was ambitious and determined to express his seed into a white girl. He said next to nothing to Cassie other than what to do, sexually. That was enough.
When Cassie felt another hot blast of cum dump into womb, she let out a whine. It was both one of joy and surrender. She could have been in a warm bed next to her husband. Instead, she had chosen something very different. Cassie looked over to Porsche but she had already stepped out. All she could see was Goth Girl getting dressed while Anna was getting a mouthful of cock and hot cum. Anna's lover bucked his hips and told her, “Eat that spunk, white girl.” Light-headed, Cassie took several deep breaths. Her customer had already gathered his clothes and hopped out without a goodbye or an unnecessary “thanks”. She propped herself up on her elbows. That's when Goth Girl walked over to her.
“I'll bring the next customer waiting so you don't have to clean up.” Goth Girl explained. Still stunned, Cassie didn't quite grasp her commitment being a whore for the Black Fantasies Lounge. The Goth Girl returned quickly with another patron, a college athlete visiting from Inner City. “Here you go, sweetie. She's worth the wait!” Goth Girl bragged.
Cassie eyes popped open realizing another lover was expecting to fuck her. The young man's attractiveness couldn't help but be noticed. He had an athletic body, very firm and very fit. There was little doubt he could kick her husband's white ass. When the black athlete pulled off his pants, his hard cock dropped making Cassie's heart race. It made her instantly aroused. She was in disbelief she was horny already and couldn't deny her most primal, feminine drive and desires for a rock hard cock demanding pussy. “Are you ready for this?” the young man politely asked. Cassie, in a dream-like stance, happily nodded, and mumbled “Um, yeah.”
So started another round of sex for the married blonde. The number of girls in the VIP room slowly dwindled. One by one, other white girls left the club leaving Cassie alone. She was ******* there was a line outside waiting to get a piece of ass from the “new girl”. Goth Girl was raking in a premium, an up-charge solely enjoyed by the house, selling Cassie as “new, married, and stuck-up.” The line outside waiting to fuck a privileged, married, white girl only grew longer. Meanwhile, the African warlord kept his seat at his table enjoying the most expensive bottle of scotch the club stocked.
While Cassie surrendered her body to another black man, the club was long closed to the public. Only the select few hung around, waiting, waiting to get their chance at her. Cassie had no clue the VIP room and the club itself became a private party over her. She pretty much resorted giving up her pussy for one guest after another. Cassie would greet her next suitor with a blowjob before lying on her back and taking a good fuck missionary. She heard each pray to their race, the greatness of black, and cursed the white race of bigots. “Take it, slut!”, “Love that black dick, whore!” were a few samples how they spoke to her. One after the other shared their hatred of white racism by putting a part of them inside of her. Cassie put her arms around her lover's neck, whoever it was at the time. Her eyes focused beyond her left, ring finger. That little rock, symbolizing her love and faithfulness to her husband meant nothing. Her race meant nothing. Her career and marriage were equally devoid of importance. She was lost to the black man. Cassie mumbled, “... fuck me … fuck me ...”
Another splatter of hot cum spattered her face followed by another comment what a tramp or slut Cassie was. It didn't bother her. She simply rubbed the cum from her face and tits amazed of the stamina she had . Maybe, she had the body and energy for a whore all along. She would have discovered it earlier in life if it wasn't for her marriage.
Goth Girl walked inside with a bright smile looking all proud and knelt at Cassie's feet. She grinned and told Cassie, “You look beautiful! You're a hit with the guys! JaMarcus thinks you'll do well here.”
Cassie struggled to snap out of her sexual trance, “What … what have I done to myself?”
Goth Girl giggled and couldn't hold back any longer looking at the proud white girl. Goth Girl covered her mouth and began jerking in laughter, “Slut, you're a whore, now! You're a gawd-damn whore for black cock!” she told Cassie. The Goth-looking chick continued her laughter. Cassie was emotionless and said nothing in her defense, only silence.
The skies above Black Pine
turned light purple as the sun approached the eastern horizon. While one white girl's night was finally coming to an end, the day was only beginning for another. Pulling into the lot of the Migrant Hotel was Inner City 6 television reporter, Teagan T. Kayce. She was on a mission.
Located at the city outskirts off a state highway, the hotel was in the shadows of empty warehouses and storage buildings. Described as a larger-sized, three story building, the run-down hotel was once on the verge of demolition. However, it experienced renewal with the migrant relocation programs spearheaded by Mayor Sweet. Pool of forward thinking black entrepreneurs and charity organizations saved the establishment.
This was Teagan's first return to the “refugee camp” since her interview with Zara. With help from Zara and a couple migrants, Teagan went “woke” and embraced her racial obligations to the black race. She gladly traded her body for black men's pleasure if it would boost her career. Now, The Black Power Movement had someone of influence recruited. Teagan's career could take off as long as she worked hard on her back. While her future in journalism was still in doubt, her future in a black man's bed was not.
That morning of her return trip, Teagan was extremely serious about herself. She was anxious and hurried. Teagan felt she was running behind on research fighting oppression. Her on-going expose saving the Elimination Clinic made her a voice for racial justice. Promoting migrant empowerment could make her famous. It didn't occur to Teagan she was behind because she spent the prior evening with her black lover, Keyshawn. She could had been studying her notes, interviewing the movers and dreamers of Black Pine, or sharing a bed with her husband. Instead, the ambitious television personality rode a black cock through the evening into the morning.
Teagan enjoyed her hours with Keyshawn, receiving his gift of black cock. Her lover was confident, in control, and demanding. Keyshawn was relentless in the bedroom. His prowess expressed beyond the field to sex. The hours spent in different positions and sex acts did not slow or sate him. His steel, black manhood penetrated Teagan in ways a woman needed. It made its way into her mouth where Teagan tasted his lust. It pushed into her womb, feeling every vein of his throbbing cock needing to inseminate her. Not finished, Teagan surrendered her pink, little asshole and Keyshawn anally fucked her. The blonde had to feel his relentless passion. Teagan wailed in the night feeling the rage of the oppressed. The couple roared in erotic celebration as the black man conquered again. While she didn't apologize for being white, she paid for its racism. Teagan confessed to Keyshawn, having a black cock in her ass was the most important moment in her married life.
However, that was hours earlier. Teagan had come down from her sexual highs and had something to prove, professionally. Her cravings for black cock seemed to be satisfied. Dressed in heels, a cropped off shirt tight to the breasts, and even tighter black jean shorts – Teagan was dressed like a co-ed going on a binge. Though she was thinking all “business”, her wardrobe sent different signals about what she was really after. She marched towards the aged, three-story hotel. The epicenter of the city's African culture was strangely quiet. Where was the music? Where were the glowing circles of men and visiting white women sharing puffs of spiritual smokes.
There were a few high-dollar vehicles in the lot, too expensive for a migrant. Many had child seats. Teagan walked the lot around the building, hoping to bump into a migrant and ask a few questions. But nothing. Teagan turned her head to the highway when a semi blew their horn. Teagan took the stairs to the second floor. She felt warm as Teagan circled the room doors. Again, there was no one. Frustrated, she asked herself, “Is there a single African that will meet me?” Other than bed sheets, towels, and a variety of clothes draped over the rails, there were little other signs of life. Teagan let out a deep, frustrated breath. She wasn't ready to give up as she needed this too much. The reporter didn't make it out of her small, rural state by giving up. Teagan stormed up the stairs to the third floor. In her rush to find someone, she was winded. The stilettos at the bottom of her heels stamped the metal stairs making one loud “ping” after the other. From the highest floor of the hotel, she heard the Doppler-echoing sounds of vehicles on the nearby highway. The slight, morning breeze refreshed the flustered blonde. Teagan looked at each door as she walked by but they all were shut closed and quiet. Except … she heard something behind one of the doors at the corner. It was a groan, an erotic feminine groan often recognized between a woman and her black lover. Teagan heard the deeper voices but couldn't make out the words. Perhaps, it was spoken in a foreign tongue. But Teagan definitely understood the woman, urging “Fuck me … yes!” The woman grunted like how she grunted for Keyshawn … satisfied, used, and fucked. Teagan covered her mouth than grabbed a breast as she felt for her She understood what the unnamed woman inside was going through. The woman moaned louder before her voice was cut off. Time stood still inside the migrant's room as the white girl had a single, important purpose ... a purpose of providing sexual needs no African will be denied. Teagan was left imagining how much African cock was thrusting inside white pussy. The sly reporter saw first hand how fast the city was being belonging to the migrants. More deep voices spoke out. There had to be more than one African with her inside. “You want black cock, white girl?” said a deep, booming voice with an accent. The woman's reply was quick and emphatic, “Yes, I need it!”
Teagan put her right hand on the door knob. She had to see for herself. This was more than interracial passion, this could be used in her expose in the future of Black Pine or the world. She wanted to be there … inside … witnessing the birth of an Africa nation here in Black Pine. Teagan would participate, if that is what it took … anything for a story, anything for racial justice, anything for black rule. Teagan wouldn't wait any longer. The begging and passionate moans were too much and drew her to come inside. If there was a chance she could join on a good, interracial fucking, she would take it … no shame, no regrets. “Gawd, I want this!” Teagan said to herself. “I love you Keyshawn but … I'm a slut!” she confessed. She pushed down on the handle and it gave a quarter inch making her feel excited. Just a little more and it would pop open. There was something natural or super-natural when a group of black alpha men getting pussy that compelled her to offer her body to them. She was ready to push on the handle a little harder.
However, the handle wouldn't budge. Teagan was locked out. She had to take the disappointment hearing the white girl inside saying “... yes … yes … yes ...” before her mouth was gagged and muffled, her sexual bliss muted. Feeling the energy inside but unable to enjoy it, the blonde grabbed one her breasts. Teagan turned around … where she saw … him! A nearly naked, beautiful African!
The migrant was tall, muscular, and fucking arrogant. He was Sipho, the African militant. Sipho was a soldier, mercenary, a loyal fighter for African, nationalistic causes on his home continent. After many successful campaigns redistributing land, wealth, and political power from white colonists to the African people, he had immigrated to Sweden to bring his methods of black prosperity into a country that desperately needed it. When the news of white racists uprising in Black Pine, the mighty Sipho relocated and joined his brothers and kin in the Migrant Hotel. In Black Pine, he had plenty of opportunities to fuck the culture of white people and take its women as prizes and reparations.
Sipho peered at Teagan with hunter's eyes with primal need and lust. He was wearing only a worn, cream-colored towel just like one you expect hanging on the rack of a budget hotel. The towel was barely large enough to cover his loins yet small enough to get Teagan's attention. Teagan was startled but soon very intrigued by the half-naked African standing before her. She laid an index finger on her bottom lip imagining the “possibilities”.
Sipho stepped up close to Teagan. “Why you alone, white girl? Why you not in room pleasing Africans?” he asked. That voice! It was so presumptuous, commanding, and dominating. Teagan about swooned and muttered, “I'm Teagan … I'm a reporter researching white bigotry ...”
But Sipho wasn't interested in the white girl acting all smart and ignorant. He stepped up close to the blonde and placed his rather large right palm on her chest just below her smooth-skinned neck. “This is Africa! You have no rights here.” Sipho told her.
Teagan cleared her throat wanting to reassure him. “I'm not looking for rights ...” she tried to explain. Sipho's hand slid up and he slowly curled his fingers around her delicate throat. Teagan felt electrical excitement. The more vulnerable she felt in his shadow the more aroused she became. She said nothing waiting for the African to begin squeezing his grip.
“I don't want rights ...” Teagan wheezed, trying to catch air. She raised the bottom of her cut-off shirt intentionally pushing it over her titties exposing them. Her nipples were obviously showed excitement. “See?” she added, wondering how the African would respond. Though his sexual frustrations were growing rapidly, Sipho was patient. In his confidence, he studied the white girl, his sexual prey, before his pounce. He took notice on her body made to entice sexually aggressive men. Sipho's decision was quick and his reasoning very understanding. Sipho leaned in, his nose touching hers. He released his grip from her throat and moved one hand over her breast, the other firmly on her ass. The couple kissed, tongues furiously danced with one another. Sipho then took a deep breath and immediately mouthed her left breast. As he was making loud suckling sounds, he fondled her right breast while his other arm wrapped her waist, keeping her close.
Teagan threw back her head and put her hands around Sipho. He was much taller than the other black lovers. She was in the arms of a hero who likely fought countless white colonists in battle taking their homes, property, and wives. Sipho whispered into Teagan's ear, eager to hear his voice, “You whore for Africans?” Teagan giggled at the blunt question. But she nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I am.” she answered as Sipho's black hands gripped and groped her breasts. There was denying it. Her television career couldn't cover her place in a black man's world or an African tribe.
Like a magic trick, Sipho's towel unclasped and dropped to the floor. His nearly foot-long cock twitched and rocketed itself into an impressive, if not angry, erection. Teagan's eyes dropped. The blonde gasped and shuddered at the sight of Sipho's black manhood extremely ready to fuck. Very ready to fuck! Sipho looked deep into Teagan's eyes intrigued how she was becoming hypnotized. Teagan's lips parted. A drop of drool slid over the corner of her lower lip caught by her tongue. Sipho stepped back one step and gestured at this bouncing cock. “On your knees and please me.” he told her.
A warm wind breezed through Teagan's hair as she took in what the African's demand of her. She made eye contact with him before her attention drifted to his manhood. That black cock was waiting to fuck her. Her pussy tightened yet excited at the idea of it penetrating deep inside her. Gawd, what a slut she would be if she took that. The skin was dark as night … veins twitched flowing with blood. Its cock-head was plump and purple and the size of a snake's head waiting to hiss. Sipho's patience had run out and he said loudly, “Now!”
After another semi horn blared its echo, Teagan's knees dropped to the concrete in front of Sipho. She gave the cock a close look and planted a kiss on the shaft. Teagan gripped the cock and stroked it up and down. Teagan shuddered again at his size and massive weight. “Uh, oh … shit!” she muttered. Sipho made an angry growl. Teagan had no time left to waste and pushed Sipho's cock into her mouth. “Grummph!”
Smuck, slop, slossh! Teagan pushed as much cock into her mouth as she could. Her mouth was stretched open. The cock head rubbed hard against the roof of her mouth as it pushed heavy on her tongue. Teagan bobbed her head slowly then fast then slow again assuring the African there was nothing more important than his pleasure. Sipho placed a hand around her head and looked up into the heavens and let out a sigh of relief. Teagan gagged when Sipho bucked his hips.
Teagan gave attention to his heavy balls. They dropped on the top on her nose as she lapped them. The masculine scent, signaling its need for pussy, was perfume to Teagan. She needed more of it. Teagan smiled and let out a long “ahhh...” enjoying the flavor of its flesh. When she returned to sucking cock, Sipho had two hands placed on her cheeks and began face fucking her. When he wasn't looking at Teagan's pretty face, he looked back up and blessed Africa. He bucked his hips confidently using Teagan's mouth as a wet hole to slide his cock in and out. Her gags and moaning pleas meant nothing to him. When he felt like it, he pulled his cock out and dropped it on Teagan's face … “plop”, “plop”.
After the African displayed his unquestioned dominance, he told the white girl to stand and lean over the railing. Sipho pulled down Teagan's tight shorts. The slut was without panties and it didn't surprise Sipho one least bit. Teagan helped him by wiggling her ass making her shorts drop to the floor. When she stepped out of them, she saw her pants fly over the railing and drop three stories below. “My keys!” she complained. Sipho decided she had no use of them and so he tossed him. The migrant also decided to bury his nose into Teagan's pussy from behind and began licking her cunt. Teagan moaned and looked over at the highway. Her knees quivered and her heart raced making her body feverish. She stuck out her ass and arched her back encouraging her African to taste more … to take more from her. Teagan groaned incoherently as Sipho's hot tongue licked and lapped her up. She felt aroused and excited. Frustrated and heated, Teagan crossed her arms and pulled off her top. She released her hold on her shirt and it joined her pants below.
Teagan leaned over the railing on the third floor of the hotel looking over the highway. Any trucker with a good mobile phone could snap a naked picture of her. What a scandal that would be! But Teagan didn't care. Her African was entitled to take everything from her, including her career. Standing in only her heels she felt Sipho's rough hands run up her thigh, grip her hips, before she felt the rubbery tip against her clit. His right palm was flat above her tail bone before ...
“Aggh! Fuck!” Teagan whelped when Sipho stretched her open with just his cock-head. But he pressed in, pushed further, getting what he needed. Submissive, white pussy. “Gawd-damn! It's fuckin' huge!” Teagan barked out. She looked over her shoulder to look at Sipho hoping to make a connection with him. Maybe, he will be more gentle?
No.
Teagan discovered bluntly how much Sipho was in charge. He lunged forward again with no other reason but to sate his sex drive. “Agggh! Ah! Oh … fuck me!” Teagan cried as Sipho's magical cock made room inside her hot womb. Sipho bucked his loins hard and forced several more inches of him inside of her. A good slap went across Teagan's ass. It was a sharp, bitter pain but Teagan felt his ownership. “Whore, you serve Africans!” he declared in a loud, booming voice. Teagan could only muster a meek reply, “... yes ...” Sipho grabbed a handful of blonde hair and threw his hips into his conquest. It was something he had done thousands of times. “... ugh … ugh … ugh ...” he grunted. Teagan wiped the sweat from her forehead, arched her back, and looked up into the skies. She could do nothing but take the fucking. Take his large organ inside of her. The two bodies of black and white were one. With a demanding push driven by the African, Teagan rolled her eyes and let out a defeated gasp. Sipho nodded, approving his work on the white girl. Her pale, round ass was pleasing to his eyes at it wiggled each time it cushioned his loins. The African growled though, still frustrated knowing it would take a while before he would release. Teagan's left hand turned bleach white as she gripped the rails hard. She gritted her teeth but couldn't resist letting out another primal grunt. A firm black hand grabbed her right breast and she put her hand on his. Teagan's knees buckled as she felt a hot wave across her body. She felt a comforting, orgasmic wave as a reward for mating an African. Sipho kissed Teagan's neck and spoke in his dialect. It sounded poetic in both romantic and possessive ways. Did he tell her that he loved her? Or did Sipho remind her she was merely the tribal fuck toy?
Sipho wasn't near finished, plop-plop-plop, did he continue to fuck Teagan. His pace was steady and confident. He gave her another slap on her ass simply to remind her she was there to be fucked. Teagan mumbled something incoherent like a dumb animal. Joining the highway noise and the breeze, was a chorus of clicks and snaps. Three migrants strolled the top floor and watched the live mating between the militant and his prize. They watched the sex in front of them as casual as watching the sunrise. The clicks were made with their tongues. The snaps made by their fingers. Each of the migrants were recently awoke, wearing little but boxers or a towel. But in moments, they calmly dropped their garments and patiently waited their turns. While Teagan was occupied with three of Sipho's fingers in her mouth, the watching migrants pulled out an old, twin sized striped mattress from one of their rooms. They dropped the mattress on the floor next to Sipho, who knew what to do.
On her knees, ass up, Teagan put her forearms and cheek on the mattress. Sipho stood behind her, his feet planted flat. He squatted, legs spread wide, and guided his massive cock inside of Teagan's pussy. Teagan moaned at first, feeling more complete with Sipho inside of her than not. Soon, Sipho started his maddening pace working his ass like a piston. The other migrants chanted, “For Africa!” in their native dialect.
“White pussy belongs to our people! To Africans!” Sipho cheered. Teagan replied with another whine. Her eyes shut, her mouth gaping open, she was lost in African lust. Her nipples rubbed against the worn mattress making her feel even more aroused. Teagan shook and shivered. She felt the orgasm take birth from her womb and work outwards across her body and soul. Her groans went from low to high pitched. While she didn't hear Sipho curse her race, she did feel the streams of hot semen drop and dump inside of her. The load was excessive, the sperm felt “heavy”, and moved deep into her womb flooding her pussy with African nectar. Sipho pushed forward, leaned back, and pushed forward three more times before pulling out for good. He rubbed his wet cock across Teagan's ass and gave it a final slap. Sipho picked up the towel off the floor and walked off.
Teagan laid quiet trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her pussy feeling how sopping wet it was. But Teagan saw the black toes inching towards her. She propped herself up on her hands until she stood on her knees. A black cock was ready and stared at her. Her right hand instinctively gripped it and gave it a few tugs. Teagan raised her chin with a faux-innocent look on her face. She acknowledged that the world was full of women would do or pay anything to have her experience. Especially, in a world run by African kings. Teagan whispered to herself, “I'm a whore for Africa.” and accepted the migrant cock into her mouth. The other migrants stepped up and circled Teagan and the mattress. Happy, victorious clicking sounds resumed.
“Damn, white girl! You look good!”, said Monique.
Monique praised Cassie as the blonde walked up and down the boutique in an outfit made of a mini-skirt, a tube top, and high-heeled boots. Cassie made it to the store as soon as it opened. Inside, Cassie strutted with pride and confidence in her new outfit. She swung her hips with a hand on her right hip. The bottom of her ass was clearly visible enticing men and women alike. Cassie knew this and it made her euphoric.
“You look like you just got the best dick in your life!” noticed Monique who had a wide smile on her face. She couldn't stop thinking of the size of charges she'll ring up on the blonde's credit card.
Cassie gave Monique an evil grin, “Maybe, I did.” She bent both knees and sprung up, “Do I get a meeting with The Movement?”
Monique nodded, “Oh, you're ready.”
Cassie giggled like a school girl as she stared at herself in the mirror, “They're going to get everything they want! I can't wait to tell them!” Cassie was falling in love with herself and the sex she was giving to black men. She was so engrossed with herself, she barely noticed Monique going on about the BPM. “We're stronger with The Black Power Movement. It's a fucking lightning rod for racial justice.” said Monique.
Cassie snapped herself out her self-induced trance, “It's a fantastic organization! I believe in everything they stand for.” The blonde then twirled on her heels looking at her figure. Cassie added, “Can you make the appointment late in the evening? I want to put in a few more hours at the club this afternoon?”
Monique smiled again. “Thinking about making a career change, are we? You gonna be a stripper?”
Cassie looked back. Her smile disappeared and she never looked so serious. “I am a stripper.”
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.
