Hello, cucks and race traitors! ♠ Been a while, hm?
I am releasing a second edition of this story to correct some of the poor editing.
After you're done getting off to this consider reading the second half Blacked Mind Control - Pumpkin Spice (Part II).
I have a NEW book out - Cucked During Quarantine. I'm sure you'll love it! ♥
#SayNoToWhiteBoys
-F
Becky Graham pushed her friend out of the Uber as they arrived. Becky was a 21-year-old blonde, short and slim, insisting that the other upper class southern girl join her on this outing. She was the granddaughter of an Alabama governor, and a fitting accompaniment to Senator Lee's ********. In stark contrast, Becky preferred to let loose rather than studying - something that her 18-year-old companion didn't approve of.
“God, you could be so boring sometimes!” she said, running her fingers across her short pink skirt. Her white see-through blouse revealed her black bra underneath.
The sound of music coming from the Zeta Beta Frat House was unmistakable, even before they reached the entrance. The fraternity was notorious for their wild parties, and the heavy bass reverberated throughout the building.
Above was a creamy white ornately carved archway. Becky pushed the doorbell, turning to make sure her friend she pressured did not flee.
A sly smile was on her pink painted lips.
It took months of coaxing, the blonde finally making her friend acquiesce once midterms were over to joined her for a fun night.
Only on the ride over did she mention it was at a frat. Even worse? A black frat. Her racist father and white boyfriend would be livid if they knew.
“Why were yo
The brunette companion was less than thrilled when she learned of tonight's destination. Katelyn hadn't gone far enough to jump out the car when they reached their destination, but she had thought about it. A black fraternity? Fried chicken and rap music? She shudders at the mere thought. Becky had convinced her to wear a blue halter top with a too-short black skirt, along with her boyfriend's letterman jacket for coverage, yet she still feels *******. The young woman reaches into her pocket, feeling the security of her cellphone. Should she just call an Uber and go back home?
Katelyn knew she had no argument to make against Becky, so she tried another tactic. Her voice growing quieter, she insisted that she wouldn't fit in at a party "like this". Her big blue eyes implored her friend from behind her glasses as the unfamiliar beat pulsed around them. She shudders again at the thought of what her *** would think of such a noise.
“Maybe we should just turn around and head back,” she said, but it was too late; the door was opening.
“You need to learn how to relax,” she replied before a tall lanky man appeared in the doorway. He smirked down at them, wearing a black college basketball jersey, and he greeted them.
“Hey ladies. Looking nice tonight!” He said.
Becky stepped closer to him and put her hand on his chest. “Mmn, hey Marcus. Where was Jamal tonight?” She purred.
“Den.” He responded and moved out of the way, allowing them entrance. As they entered the room, many eyes were glued to them; most of the party members were black men and women, with only two white males present who seemed disinterested in the events of the night.
Becky took Kate's wrist gently with her delicate hand and guided her inside towards the den where several frat brothers leered at them as they passed by. Katelyn swallowed hard as they opened the door, feeling nervous as she noticed the dark shapes appear in the light from within. It wasn't that they were all black that made her uneasy--she tried to tell herself this--but simply because she felt intimidated by the unfamiliar surroundings. Music thumped loudly without the door blocking it, and an unidentifiable sweet smell tickled her nose.
There's no more time to pull Becky backed since; she's already slipped inside and left Kate out in the cold. No real option, then! she's already made it this far, and worst came to worst she could just slipped out and get a ride home. So, she steps in, following behind and trying not to noticed the way dark eyes followed the seat of her skirt as she brushes past.
She keeps her jacket on: it broadcasts to the world that she has in fact already had a boyfriend. Craig's on the crew team and everything. Not that she's worried about one of these guys trying to pick her up; it's not like they're animals. Sure, her *** would tell her that going to a party like means she's sure to be befouled by a 'pack' of them but that's just because he's an old racist and she's sure none of it had rubbed off on her.
"Whose Jamal?" she hisses out, tugging her wrist and trying to get Becky's attention. It sure feels like there were a lot of eyes on her, and she could felt a telltale blushed already forming on her gently-freckled cheeks.
“Jamal was just a guy from my communications class.” she explained, leading her friend deeper into the lion's den as girls shamelessly twerked again ebony studs or sat proudly in their lap. “Relax. Hasn't be a wet blanket.” Becky insisted, entering the den and to a sofa beside the ornate wooden stairwell. Sitting on the red leather sofa was a tall toned college senior, his dreadlocks flowing passed his shoulders. He wore a Lakers jersey and jeans with expensive Air Jordan’s on his feet. His stoic faced smirked when he saw Becky.
He stood up, the white girl throwing herself into his arms to hugged against him and felt that firm body. She was already soaking wet from being surrounded by real men, but kept it hidden as he leaned forward and she whispered something unintelligible into his ear making him grinned.
“Hey, girl. I'm Jamal.” he said warmly, giving her a sly smile as he looked down. "
“You seem tense. You okay, girl?"
Katelyn looked around the party with wide, astonished eyes, her thin-rimmed glasses magnifying her shock. Everything was so much like it was in the movies, but she had always assumed that those types of images were just exaggerated. She believed she saw a girl from her statistics class with someone she didn't recognize, but the woman vanished into the crowd of dancers and Katelyn found herself in another room. Her face felt hot and flushed and she yelled to make herself heard over the loud music. “Uhm, I'm okay! Just don't usually go to these types of events.” She wanted to meet Becky's gaze, wondering if Jamal was her boyfriend. Taking Craig's jacket more firmly onto her shoulders, Katelyn tried to use it as a shield against everything happening around her. The spicy sweet smell of sweat and something else assaulted her nose and she couldn't even smell Craig's aftershave mixed in anymore.
Jamal slung one arm around Becky who smiled goofily up at him. “I think you can help loosen her up some, Daddy," she practically purred, winking at him.
The man grinned, inwardly savoring the situation before letting his amusement show. "It's a bit much for your friend here, don't you think?" he asked Katelyn as he held out his large dark hand for her to take. "Maybe something like pumpkin spice would help her relax? Something that you white girls are all into, right?" Jamal joked, watching as Becky briefly frowned in annoyance.
Katelyn was well aware of how she looked: almost too thin and much too pale, freckles sprinkled across her skin. She was completely out of place at this frat party filled with black people; she felt fear, but there was also anger directed at herself. How could she even think of running away when clear Becky trusted these people?
Jamal gestured towards the other room where it was slightly quieter and Katelyn nodded.
"Yeah!" she shouted to be heard over the music. "It's just... kinda loud in here!" For a moment her eyes tracked Jamal's hand on Becky's body as a chill ran up her spine, but she quickly shook off the thought.
Jamal gestured to the room behind the stairwell, Becky and Kate following him in. The room was hazy due to the hookah sitting in the middle of it that had apparently been recently used. Jamal took a seat on one side of it, and Becky snuggled up against him on the other side, patting the cushion next to her for Kate to sit down.
"You ever tried pumpkin spice?" Jamal asked.
Becky's licked her lips as she gave a pleading look with her blue eyes. “It's the best, Katie. Try it!"
Kate hesitantly obliged, feeling a little out of place compared to the two. As she sat down, the music in the background lessened to a dull hum, and its lyrics became muffled. She nervously eyed the hookah while giving it some distance from her as she sat down with straight posture and folded hands on her lap. The air in this room was warmer than the one where people were crowded in together, and filled with an intense scent of spices and sweetness that drifted throughout the entire house.
She wasn't stupid - quite the contrary! "Is that, ah. A kind of weed or something? I know there's different kinds and I-," her gaze flicks guiltily to Becky, she had never actually told her friend this before, "- smoked some in high school, once. But I don’t know what… strain it was."
Jamal entertained her query with a playful smirk. "Oh...? You a secret bad girl then, Katie...?" he taunted, lifting the hose to his lips for another deep drag of the strong marijuana. He exhaled, and his rich brown eyes glaze over from the pleasure of it all.
Becky couldn't wait any longer and snatched the pipe away from him. "Ooh, I’ve been thinking about this all week," she admitted before puffing on the mind-altering substance. She shivered in ecstasy, her light blue eyes becoming glossed over as a light shade of pink colored her cheeks; this specific strain has an especially potent effect on white girls like her while having the opposite effect on white males who got the dreaded 'pumpkin dick' where their puny erections would not rise again after a week of use if they were ******* for too long, making them sterile in the process.
She greedily inhaled at the mouthpiece before finally handing it off to Katie.
Katelyn's eyes widened as the pipe touched her friend's lips and cheeks. The sweet smell of the fragrant smoke permeating the air further thickened the miasma in the room, causing Katelyn to shiver with anticipation. Heat was rising around her, so she shrugged off her boyfriend's jacket and revealed a low-cut halter top that showed hints of her freckled cleavage.
Timidly, she accepted the mouthpiece and inhaled deeply. Instead of harshness, she found the smoke surprisingly smooth and gentle. She coughed out her breath, feeling an instant warmth flow through her body and raising goosebumps on her skin. "W--whoa--," she uttered in a whisper while blinking hard. She felt something, for sure.
Becky grinned mischievously, climbing over Jamal's lap and settling her hips against his. She rested her chin on Katelyn's shoulder and spoke in a sultry tone, "Tasty, isn't it?" as she grasped the wooden hose end. She knew Katelyn was starting to become addicted to the drug; it was slowly taking away her will and completely rewiring her brain, making her insatiably aroused and extremely fertile.
Jamal's large hand already kneaded Becky's ample bottom, making her gasp softly before she brought the end of the pipe to Katelyn's lips. “Let go of your inhibitions,” she murmured. “Prove to Jamal that you aren't just another stuck-up white girl.” Katelyn inhaled deeply before Becky removed the pipe from her mouth and pressed her soft pink lips against Katelyn's, allowing her to exhale into her lungs. The blonde trembled slightly under the sensations coursing through her body.
Without a word, Jamal shoved two $100 bills into Becky's back pocket before smacking her butt hard enough to make her yelp and break the kiss. The corrupted white girl smiled at her friend whom she had just sold out to the frat before returning to Jamal's other side.
"Katie.” the other high-class white girl uttered. “I want you to look at something." she mused, reaching down and undoing Jamal's belt. Unbuckling it and undoing the front of his jeans, she reached into fish out 12" of throbbing ebony godcock. Precum beading from the tip. Leaning in, she planted a heated kissed on the tip, slurping up the precum as she began stroking it.
“Your white boyfriend this big…?" she asked, mischief dancing in her glazed eyes.
Katelyn had barely begun to process the sensations of her first hit when Becky leaned in and forced another puff. “Wait, I--” she stuttered, feeble attempts at shoving her friend away with half-numb hands.
Kissing was bizarre enough, but the spicy smoke that invaded her lungs sent shivers through her body. Her nipples stood firm against her bra and shirt; her cheeks flushed red with freckles standing out all the more; and between her legs a tingle took over, urging her to call up her boyfriend and see what he was doing - though these thoughts were cut off as Becky pulled back. Katelyn tried to get up from the couch, only to find every motion made the sensations worse; then, Becky presented something that caused Katelyn to gasp in shock.
“You couldn’t just—oh my god, Becky!” She mumbles out half-turning her head away, unable to look at it. But even in the corner of her eye she can make out its incredible shape. Her mouth hangs open as her neck twists back so she can take in the sight fully. “Oh my god…” she says again, feeling dizzy and mesmerized. The huge black cock is pulsating and almost seems to absorb every ray of light in the room. “No, he’s...smaller.” she stutters in a soft voice full of reverence, remembering how absurd it was to compare her boyfriend's tiny worm to something like this. Next thing she knows, she finds herself kneeling down at Jamal's feet, entranced by what she sees. One hand is holding the thick black shaft while the other weaves into Kate's hair, pushing her head down gently while whispering sweet pumpkin spice words that seem to fill her fragile mind with ease.
She was drawn to it, unable to resist. As Becky spoke, Katelyn hung onto her every word, her conscious mind succumbing to the overwhelming sensation. Thinking of her ex-boyfriend – Greg? Craig? George? What was his name? – faded away as she edged closer and closer. She could feel the heat emanating from the object even before their lips met, with a kiss beginning mid-shaft and rising higher. A moan escaped her lips; she'd never felt anything like this before with any of the white boys she had been with. Could it be because this was a black man?
Jamal grunted in response to her kiss, his gaze trained on hers as he brushed against her newfound addiction. Was this really happening? Would she ever be able to think of anyone but niggers in this way again?
“That's my good girl," he murmured when they pulled away from their kiss, staring down into her hazy eyes. His hands replaced Becky's holding the back of Katelyn's head as he leaned in for another deep kiss. When he pushed her away, she smiled sweetly at him. "He's all yours, Daddy," she murmured as Becky stumbled up from behind her, grabbing hold of her boyfriend's jacket. Reaching in, she fished out her keys and discarded them with her purse on the floor. “I’ll go throw this in the fire.” the white girl said, getting off on the evil of stealing her away from her loving white boy forever.
The sound of her closing the door behind her could be heard as he pressed down harder, entering her throat as he growled hotly, staring down.
She was barely cognizant of what was happening above her head. There were words spoken and motions that were momentary distractions, but the only thing she really noticed was the motion of the cloth around her arms. She raises them, letting the jacket slide right off like she's shedding a layer of skin, paying it about as much mind as she would a breeze. The jacket had been someone's, she's pretty sure. Someone important? Probably. Maybe. But how could that be? How could there be anything else important besides the bloated black cockhead now nestled into the waiting space in her mouth?
It was unreal. It was perfection. Her lips form a careful ring around the far side of the tip as her tongue washed around it, flicking slow circles that lap the stain of salty, tangy pre from the slit at the tip repeatedly. She nursed the tip, suckling at it like it's a mother's teat with slow slurping inhalations. Eyes rolled at each new one, because the flavor and might of it never faded.
Maybe her *** was right to be worried about her going to this kind of party, a detached part of her brain muses. He had been proud and stupid to think he could hide this from her. The hand on her head had not let her move far, but she could manage an inch or two -- just enough to pop the head out, so her lips could press constant kisses around it as she speaks. “I’m -- sorry --" she mumbles out, wondering how she could possibly apologize for everything at once -- her own stupidity, her race's inferiority and pride and misdeeds -- the weakness in her blood. “I-- didn't know.” was all she could managed as lips kissed backed down the shaft. By the time she reached his balls, the towering midnight shaft had scrubbed her lily-white cheeks and knocked her glasses upwards -- not off, but the stained lenses dangled somewhere up in her hair, forgotten.
He sneered from ear-to-ear from her apology. White guilt was always deep inside pathetic little snowbunnies like her. A white person's main purpose in life...? White girls were for breeding and white boys were for disposal. It wasn't racism - it was evolution. Jamal grunted as he stroked her head, rewarding her for the first confessions of her inferiority. With no hesitation, he pushed the Senator's innocent white ********'s face into his large balls to make her lick and suckle at them a moment, the teen inhaling the brain-rotting musk.
“White girls like you...? Heh. Your only value are those three warm wet holes and your fertile womb.” The cruel dominant alpha male said, making her taste the powerful African musk that would burn into her silly brain forever. “You're a nigger's whore. Say it, girl.” He ordered sternly.
Her chin drops, her lips pressed in. She inhales the superior musk -- natural, untamed. Was it the drugs, that make her feel so faint and small before the might of this massive ebony Zulu-spear? Or would she feel like this anyway? She couldn’t tell the difference now, and it soon won't matter anyway. The taste and texture of black balls against her cheeks, lips, and tongue was snapping at the most primitive parts of her brainstem, short circuiting neurons that were over-written entirely.
“I’m a nnn--" she starts, but the word snarls in her mouth. She feels dizzy, but she knows the room wasn't spinning around her. It's spinning around the black cock pressed against her faced, throbbing heat into every part of her. The most important thing in the universe. She manages it on the second try. “I’m a nigger's whore.” her hand even managed to move -- had it been her jacket weighing her down? maybe so. Where it moved was important too -- deeper into her lap, clutching at her skirt and the slit below in a way that sends a surge of flickering heat through her head. “I’m a nigger's whoooore--" she repeats, slurping at black balls with newfound intensity.
At last, he pulled her away. His balls made a lewd wet pop as her lips were pulled away. Saliva made the member glisten from root to tip. Grinning impishly, he gave her pretty face a playful slap to redden her cheek. “Take off your clothes, girl. I want some pussy.” Jamal ordered, used to getting anything he wanted from white girls.
Kate would be the twenty-forth girl he knocked up on that sofa. But, one of the three he would 'keep' due to her high status. He slid off his jersey and removed his baggy jeans and boxers. He ******** that toned black body. Malik was almost hairless but for the neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair above his race killing tool.
“Niggers only want one thing, pumpkin.” her father's voiced said, echoing in her ear.
There would be no discussion of protection. Rubbers were racist unless white boys were wearing them. Then again, even touching white boy's cock was racist.
She had so much to learn...
She whined as she was pushed away, gasping like a landed fish for a few moments as streamers of spit connect her lowered lip to the ebon shaft and swollen balls. The slap broke her out of it, and incidentally sent her glasses even further askew -- now dangling by one stem nestled behind her right ear until she brings a numb hand up and pushes them back into their proper place. It didn’t really help -- a milky swatch of leftover cock-grease across one lens, but she tolerated it anyway.
Her daddy had been right, she realizes as she starts to pick at the hem of her carefully picked blue halter top. It lifted easily, and her hands hooked behind to find the clasped of her modest purple bra next. Niggers want to take, steal, use, breed like rabbits, and fill the world with more of them. What had been wrong was thinking any of that was bad.
Jamal had said something earlier, she muses as the bra fell too. Her tits were modest sized but perky and proud -- canted upwards just a little so even kneeling her point-hard pink nipples looked up at her god. What was the word he used? Oh, right. Fertile. He said fertile.
Her thumbs hooked into the sides of her skirt, and she pushed down, taking her panties with it. Panties that stick, for a moment -- soaked through and filmy with the gushed of heat that had been leaking from her since she sat down. She stood as she pulled them free; showing off her own tended little tuft of innocent auburn below lips partially parted with seething desire already.
“I’m sorry--" she mumbled again, shivering. “My daddy lied to me-- all my life, everyone lied to me. We're not better. We're worse. We're-- scum. "
Jamal chuckled. “What a woke little white girl.” he insisted, taking her dainty wrists and helping her onto the sofa. A pillow under her head and a thicker pillow under her cute ass to lift her hips higher for the deepest penetration. Most of his white bitches were rutted from behind like the brainless animals they were. Nigger baby breeding stock. Katelyn...? Oh, he wanted to make sure she saw that thick black cock filling her. He wanted the image to sear into her white girl brain forever.
Holding her ankles, he tilted her legs backed, spreading them wide. Holding the base of his member, the rubbed the domed head of the ebony monolith up and down her soaking pink cunt. The only thing having entered her before were her own fingers and her boyfriend's condom covered little white cock. Easing his hips forward, he slowly began to impale her. Grunting hotly at he stared down at her, stretching her as if she were a virgin. In a way, she was. She never fucked a real man before.
A third of him was barely inside of her as he stared down, gasping. “You want a nigger to fuck you, don't 'cha...?" he snarled.
He's so big, so strong. So assured. She lets him take her in hand, position her just as he wants. Her head nods as he has, obediently stretching legs wide and displaying for him the pink slickness of her need. Normally shy inner lips were thicker and aching, pink at the base and purple with flushed arousal at the apex. It glitters, it drips -- and she knew she's never been this wet before. Just the act of opening her legs sends a pulse of pleasure through her, an animal instinct she didn't know she had. Showing herself off for an alpha. A god. A nigger.
When it touches her, she gasped, and when he pushed in she wailed. The music pumping from the other room helps blanket the cheer that goes up from the sound of another white girl getting what she's always needed but never known. The black crown vanishes into the heat of her, then an inch, another inch -- so fat and wide it dents her opening inward, snug against the walls of her tender sheath. It's never felt like this before. Was it even sex, then?
“I I I --" her voiced shimmied up, but words were so difficult to find. “I need a nigger to fuck me! I need you! I need it I I I--" she trailed off again, hips giving a heave that filled her another inch and forced her to choke on the air itself. Eyes bugged out, hands flailed at nothing. She stared down at the place black cock was spearing into her, changing her forever.
The thick ebony cock invaded her lily-white body. Each inch stretching her further. Reshaping her to fit him. The way the west would come like she did for their ebony gods and goddesses. Two-thirds of him filled her, the tip pressing against that twitching little cervix of hers. With an evil smirk, he stared down into her blue eyes. Sweat making his brow glisten as he thrusted forward with his powerful hips, pushed passed the narrow barrier as if it were nothing. A perfect metaphor for her race.
Entering her fertile womb, his tip kissed against its wall. Leaning forward, he kissed each of her pointed nipples before rewarding her with a kiss on her pink lips. His dark masculine lips pressed against hers, his hands grasping her ankles as his hips rolled. The two finally meeting as she took all of him, his tongue invading her little mouth as each thrust made her chest bounced. Nipples rubbed against his toned dark chest.
Her eyes rolled, breath heaving in and out of her in uncontrolled gasps. By halfway he's deeper than any of the white boys she's ever been with, and the sensation of having her cervix touched by s throbbing cock was wholly new. She whimpered when she felt it, voice rising in a rasping gurgle that sends her eyes wide and rolling. Her legs opened so wide she wonders if her hips will be popped from their socket. Then she wondered if she would even notice over the symphony of impossible pleasure the nigger cock inside her was stirring out.
When he passed through that barrier, Katelyn was overcome completely. “Please, please -- so good--" she babbled again, frothing at the mouth from the wakened instinct inside. A pretty white girl, Senator's ********. Such a future had been in front of her until tonight - a life wasted on learning white nonsense and party politics, when all she really needed to do was accept the divine superiority of the black man inside her. When was her last period? She couldn’t remember now, could bare think. It doesn’t matter, though. If he hasn't bred her this time, it's not like she's going to remember that she's supposed to go to class tomorrow.
Each thrust would erase more of her love for her boyfriend and replace it with love for the African race. Each hard thrust pounding her into the old leather sofa, the white girl's fate to be the house's white fuck toy sealed more. Used day in and day out for the pleasure of the frat's brothers - $5 tipped to Jamal of course each fucking. The little white girl would sleep in his bed or on his floor when he was with an ebony goddess.
And she'd be happy.
The warping of her brain would be permanent. Her days spent riding black cocks and smoking weed were now certain.
The image in her mind of that flat white tummy she stared at as that dark soaking pillar thrust into her...? Her white tummy swelling with her breasts. An incubator for black babies they would adopt out to black families. The idea of his potent seed breeding her. Erasing her white bloodline forever.
Oh, god…! He was so hard. Shaking violently. He was close!
The god-cock inside her scrubbed her inner walls with every stroke. The tip of it snags flesh and bends the entire channel from opening to womb before the might of an invader. That invader was bigger, badder, and blacker than any other had ever been. Each time he pulls back an inch there's glorious suction inside her that was reshaping her entire reproductive system -- and at the same time, her entire sense of self. Her toes were curling and her nails were raking against his broad black shoulder when she realizes that she's cumming, maybe had been cumming -- a rising tide of an orgasm that hadn’t receded like a wave but kept crashing through her until every sense was flooded.
The white girl below her new ebony god squeaked and whined as she came, the slick heat around him pulsing and begging for his completion. The thought of potent nigger seed filling every gap in her quivering womb made her cum again, and again -- because what could be better than the thought of bringing a new god into the world? It's what she was born for. It's what all white girls were born for. Was it to pay back the debt? Or was it just because black cock was the only type that matters?
“Please--" she managed, between torrents of pleasure that make tears drip down her face. “Fill me up. Cum in me. Make me yours… Make my body yours… breeed meee---"
He shook violently, using her so roughly that her thighs and firm ass would be bruised from his thrusts. Crashing against her again and again, their thighs made a lewd slapping noise almost in beat to the loud vulgar rap music playing. Some of the lyrics burned into her brain.
♪ Put that ass on a nigga, put that ass on a nigga, grind on that dick make it get a lil' bigga. ♪
Growling, he rammed into the now dishonest black cock addicted slut. He'd make her send a selfie of her riding his big black cock later to her white boyfriend as a notice they were breaking up. Maybe to all her contacts next...?
♪ Brothas ain't wear no rubbahs...! goin'a let latex came 'tween us...? Bitch, I ain't pullin' out. ♪
Their thighs were wetted each orgasm the broken white girl had. The slaps wetter and wetter as her little cunt squeezed and tried to milk him of every drop of cum.
♪ Could a nigga get in them guts? Cut you up like you ain't been cut! Show your ass how to really caught a nut. ♪
Every muscle on his dark glistening body tightened. Arching his back, he let out a howl of pleasure as he arched his hips, erupting inside of her with a howl of pleasure making the party on the other side of the wall cheer. A torrent of African godseed flooding her womb and overflowing her cunt.
Deep inside, millions of little Zulu warriors assaulted her egg. One invaded it with ease, impaling it and impregnating her with her first black baby.
♪ Game over, game over, dropped that snowbunny ass and give your white womb a black makeover. ♪
She had no way to really know that the conquering cock had already bred her. There's no inner signal or warning that her white egg was already ceding controlled to superior black generics. Maybe she's only imagined it, but still she somehow understood all of it. With her legs spread wide for a new black master, her hole gaped wide by black cock that thrusted so hard a froth of white-cunt-slick and black-cock-grease rises from the places that their bodies meet again and again with rhythmic wet thwacks as loud as the bass beat in the room beyond. Slap-slap-slap the noise rebounds as it takes her breath away, her brain away. Her life away.
She wants it. Badly enough that she screams and screams again. It almost sounds like a sob because she knows she's wasted her life so far. It could had always been like this. Maybe every day will be like this, now. Every night, every hour. Plugged by black cock, cumming for black cock, bred by black cock.
How could she ever want anything else?
A snapchat to her pathetic white boy ended that quickly, Kate ignoring his texts begging for an explanation. Little did she know he went hundreds of times to her photo, stroking his small white cock and whimpering her name.
That night she rode Jamal two more times and sucked the random black cock of a dude that offered her a hit of pumpkin spice kush. The ruined white girl was taken home with Becca in an uber and put to bed. The haze lifting, but the ever-vivid memory and need from her experience still there.
______________________________________________________________________________
Her dreams...? Of candles in the darkness slowly going out with soft whimpers before a single one was left. And, just as it went out her eyes would open.
Becca was already up, sitting in their small common area taking a puffed of a joint, now openly smoking weed in their little apartment. She grinned at Katelyn, patting the cushion beside her. “Sit. "
The thick fog of sleep faded slowly as she awoke. With each sensation that returned, the memories of last night grew clearer and more vivid. Her mouth tasted of salt and bleach, her lungs burned from smoke inhalation, and her ears still pulsed with a reverberating beat. True to form, He had been big and spread her wide—she said things she'd never thought of before, though she couldn't recall any of them now. She remembered texting Greg too late, shame filling her gut like bile.
Untouchable heat crept up her neck as she considered letting her hand drift further down against the part of her that still ached in memory. But a sharp scent tickled her nose; another day was beginning. She nodded at her housemate in silent greeting before sitting down at the table, cheeks reddening. She fiddled idly with the tablemat out of shyness, too embarrassed to start any conversation. Then Becky flashed her an amused smirk that said it all: the girl knew exactly what had gone on last night.
“You're such a good white girl. Jamal said so.” she encouraged, her hand going to her friend's sore thigh to rub it soothingly. “Soon enough you'll learn how great a hot bath can be for aching muscles. Black cocks are never soft for very long.” she informed her demure pal. “Your cuck called me crying, desperate to know what was happening and if you were all right. I told him to go kill himself. Ugh.” she spat, revolted at the image of a white guy.
“I only put up with my white boy because he’s been castrated and showers me with gifts. It won't be long before he has outlived his usefulness. Then I'll let the guys at the frat have him.” she chuckled, kind of aroused at the thought of them beating him into oblivion. “I bet you want me to introduce you to my dealer, don't you...? Can't have you smoking all my pumpkin spice, babe."
Not-so-innocent Katelyn takes the joint between her digits, not sure exactly how to hold it. She watches as the smoke wafts from its end for a few seconds, attempting to think of something to say. “He sent me like. A hundred messages. But I just haven't...” she stammers, inhaling without taking a drag on the joint. Just drinking in its spicy-sweet bouquet in the air is enough to make tiny hairs stand on end down her neck."Take care - every time I thought of him I felt so gross that he ever touched me.” She says it honestly but then feels strange for vocalizing it; why does she bother thinking so much? Why can't she just enjoy life? With this thought, Katelyn brings the joint to her lips and inhales.
When she exhales it’s with a combination of coughed and nearly sneezed -- she was still getting used to all this. “J-- Jamal's not your supplier?" she inquires, feeling thrilling sensations run through her. She hadn't even put on a bra before sneaking out of her room, so the way her nipples hardened under her t-shirt was very noticeable. “And what did you mean by -- gelded?"
She chuckled at the thought of her white boyfriend crying and pumping his little white dick somewhere. It was amusing. A perfect description of the current state of the men of the Caucasian race. “Just ghost him.” Her friend insisted, hearing her mention Jamal and pumpkin spice.
“Nah. He knows people, but Reggie was my dealer. You text him and he brings it over. He may make you sucked his big black cock a little too. But, that's what you get when you're surrounded by white girls." She murmured, her mouth watering a bit as she contemplated the husky brother's thick black penis.
“Don't hoard the spice, Katie.” Becky lamented, reaching forward in an attempt to take a huge puff as it sat between her friend's fingers. Slightly eager as she released a cloud of sweet spicy smoke into the air. “Your younger sibling still coming up this weekend...? I bet if you let The brothers have her all weekend they'll supply you for a month." She pondered aloud, her hand sliding up her friend's thigh as she spoke. “Jamal wants you to come by tonight. He likes his women wearing a spade tattoo with silver nipple studs."
Katelyn nodded along as Becky described how things work around here, then quivered at the reference to her sister. “As far as I know she's still coming! but she's--"
She handed the joint back, feeling the effects of what she'd already taken. Her heart raced and a goofy smile crossed her face as she thought about getting to suck a fat black cock. The baggie was just a bonus! Shaking her head to clear away the fog, she realized that 18 was too young to know all the truth about the superiority of black men. Something else Becky mentioned made her pale; had she really said something about getting a tattoo? Wasn't that only for porn stars? Where would she even be able to get one done?
"You think they care, Katie...? Heh. You're so cute and innocent," Becky chuckled. "Niggers just want to cum in white pussy. Besides, soon every white girl will be serving the black race. Better you learn early!" She stood up, wearing only Jamal's large jersey and some panties. Pulling down the front band revealed a spade above her shaved cunt with the words 'black cock only' written underneath it. Prouder still of her new tattoo, Becky teased her by leaning forward and gesturing towards it.
"Kiss this tattoo. Show me how thankful you are for the education I had Jamal give you."
Katelyn felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she realized how long it had taken her to recognize what her friend was saying. Staring at the black spade drawn on their body made Katelyn realize just how envious she was of them. She'd spent all semester refusing the other girl's urging for her to become more daring, and after experiencing the unique high from smoking pumpkin and tasting African cock, everything had changed.
Kissing the symbol meant so much more than just subservience to black cock, it showed dedication to this ideal. Maybe that sociology class wasn't a complete waste after all. But then she remembered why she was here in the first place and looked up at the clock, realizing she'd already missed the first half hour of class. She considered skipping some classes but decided against it - although perfection wasn't necessary, she needed good grades to stay in college.
“Thank you,” Katelyn muttered shyly. “I could have gone my whole life thinking that gross white boy was the best I could do."
Her roommate grinned when they saw Katelyn's newfound appreciation for her lifestyle, and Becky encouraged her to express her gratitude with a few dime bags of pumpkin.
“I'm heading off to class; you should take the day off," Becky suggested as she leaned down to give Katelyn a soft kiss on the lips. “We are true besties now; be a good bestie and get us some pumpkin...?” she asked in an almost pleading voice.
The bookish girl hesitates, regretting her decision to so easily let go of the joint. If only she hadn't gave it up so quickly, perhaps she wouldn't have skipped class. But nothing could be done now. She hardly mutters an agreement before Becky leaves, leaving behind a number that looks like a venomous snake waiting to strike. She's never been involved in any kind of drug dealing before; her father was a politician and he had always expected her to stay out of trouble. Now she knows how much he was lying to her all this time.
She moves the cursor on her phone and taps the given number, scrolling past the 214 notifications from Greg or whatever his name is... "Hey, Becky gave me this number, said you could help us out?"
A reply comes almost immediately --- "$25 a bag. $40 for two".
It's a steep price but not unmanageable; she had enough money in her bank account that her rich white daddy pays her 'allowance' into.
It doesn't take long until she feels a wave of anxiety wash over her; this was probably the most illegal thing she has ever done! Black cock is one thing, but being on the wrong side of the law? Well... She can just imagine what would happen if her *** found out.
She was so nervous she was about to jump in the shower, when her phone buzzed with the news. It wasn’t as expensive as she had expected it to be – a mere night out on the town!
“Okay, I’ll take two then. Do we meet up somewhere or…?”
Kate thought about asking how much the offer actually was, but then decided against it. She didn’t want to seem stupid for her lack of experience. After taking off all her clothes, she stepped into the hot shower and started washing away the sweat from last night. How luxurious it felt! If only it would have been even better with a black man in there with her...
Her fingers moved south as she thought about her new god--a big black cock--and waited for his reply. A ‘typing’ icon appeared, and soon came the message: “I come to you. You at Becky's? Send a selfie so I know you’re real.”
The lecherous black man wanted an image of Kate before he could ask for something else in exchange for the pumpkin spice he bought her. Even though morning had already aroused her, there was still an ache inside that needed more than just fingers tracing along it to awaken. Jamal had been incredibly big after all! Maybe she needed a thick black dildo to keep her satisfied while away from the frat house?
She hadn't had the opportunity to think about protection. He was so deep inside her, pushing right into her womb -- and for a few moments, she wondered if she could already be pregnant. The thought alone almost made her climax, but then her phone buzzed, breaking up her concentration.
Shutting off the shower, she stepped out onto her bathroom floor, dripping wet. Working the phone with her left hand was easier as her right fingers were still slick from her arousal. She took a selfie and sent it without hesitation; even though only a bit of skin below the collar was shown in the photo, part of her questioned why she hadn’t shown more. “Yeah, I'm her roommate. How soon will you get here?” replied to the message she sent earlier.
“20 minutes”
He arrived five minutes later than he said he would -- and there standing at the door was a 46-year-old husky black man with a thick beard and bald head covered by a black doo rag. Rough baggy jeans and a crimson muscle shirt covered his frame while his broad smile revealed two glimmering golden teeth. He thought about encountering a cute little white college snowbunny who needed some pumpkin spice.
Oh geez. 20 minutes? That's not really a lot of time! At least she had already showered; fresh and clean with scrubbed sparkling skin -- but there wasn’t enough time for her messy slightly-too-curly hair to dry completely before he showed up. She knew it would just frizz up if she tried blow-drying it! She really needs to get that stupid diffuser.
Her mind raced, filled with excitement about meeting the black god in less than half an hour to make the drug deal. The thought alone made her stomach turn but she quickly put on her red satin bra and panties, a gift from…whatever his name was. She remembered wearing them for someone else once, and she almost threw them away before deciding against it. She finished the outfit off with the too-short shorts that she doesn't usually wear outside and a BLM shirt she got from a protest. Too busy getting ready, she only realized when it was time to open the door that she had forgotten to get cash from the ATM downstairs.
"Uhm. Hi! you must be Reggie, right? um. Come in!" She stepped aside to let him enter, admiring his sparkly grill.
Reggie sneered as he saw what she was wearing; another white girl converted to mindless Black race worshiping SJW. He walked past her and sat down at their common area sofa, placing two 2 gram bags of pumpkin spice weed on the coffee table. Leaning back on the sofa, he expected a little 'extra' for his services.
"$45 plus a tip, girl." He said with a sly smirk, pointing to his belt buckle.
“Unless you're racist.” he declared, aware that his words would cut deep into the white female's sense of guilt.
She watched as he walked away, grateful to be caught up in the aroma of African man along with her beloved scent of pumpkin spice. She hesitates before closing the door, needing a moment to catch her breath. When she turns around, the bearded black man is already sitting there, taking up most of the room effortlessly.
“I'm not a racist!"she exclaims, pointing to her shirt as a means of proof. “But I…uhm. Forgot to get any money. Could I go downstairs now and come back after? Or...uhm” she trails off, stepping forward until she stands right in front of him and focuses on his belt buckle. One hand nervously playing with the other as she speaks. She briefly considered offering sexual favors in exchange for payment but realized halfway through that he could do that anyway if he wanted. That was probably why she leaned in and tugged at the leather buckle without thinking twice
He scoffs at her words. “Bitch, you better be good for it. Now shut the fuck up an' put some black dick in that mouth." Reggie responded gruffly, having little patience for silly white college girls; they were just living fleshlights to a Nubian lord like himself. From what Reggie knew, over 50 white girls from her campus alone were providing daily blowjobs to desperate customers willing to pay any amount; two had even gotten pregnant with Reggie's child!
Katelyn visibly shrinks under his scorn.
“I promise I was!” she muttered, crestfallen at having let down the black man who had graced her with his presence. She had invited him in and he had tried to help her out, and this is how she repays him? Just another broken promise by the white race. She quickly slid his belt off and wrapped her hands around his pants, eagerly feeling the expanse of fat cock below as she undid the button.
Her eyes roamed hungrily to the baggies on the table – a joint sounded nice right about now, but she didn’t know how to roll one. There were other more important things anyway. As soon as his pants were opened,10 inches of throbbing ebony fuckmeat was ******* to her. Girthier than Jamal with an even more musky scent mixed with a sweet pumpkin spice aroma. The taste of it still lingered in his precum, which beaded from the domed tip while both of his black balls swelled with African godseed for her to drink up. Even an older out-of-shape black man like him was divine. Everything about him made for breeding fertile little race traitors like her.
“Tch. You fuckin' white bitches couldn’t even think about getting my money first. Jus' pumpkin spice and black dick, huh?” he scoffed smugly. His words made her wonder if her cute little sister would be sucking this black dealer's cock next week for some special mind-altering weed...? What could possess her to give away so much?
The four-eyed bookish white girl gazes in awe at the thing dangling before her, emitting an exotic African musk. Instantly captivated, she reaches out with one hand and begins to stroke the shaft. Her glasses go askew as she leans forward, inhaling its heady scent; her heart races and her knees turn weak. Was it the pumpkin spice? She had only smoked one with Becky today – did its effects last so long? All she knows is that the most pressing thought in her mind is to make sweet love noises while drooling around the big black balls.
"Oh--sorry," she blushes, pumping the obsidian shaft up before letting it back down with a spittle lolling around its tip. "I wanted to look nice for you and this is the first time I've ever bought anything like this. I only smoked it last night and and now everything's different and I just can't stop thinking about black cock and black gods..." She closes her eyes, whimpering like some wild animal in heat. God!
Her sister's coming this weekend – how can she possibly keep herself from doing this for that long? As her slender white hand struggles to wrap itself around his thick girth, precum seeps freely from his tip and he lets out soft grunts of pleasure. White girls were always like this - too needy.
The black cock was a powerful narcotic, and when combined with the pumpkin spice, it slowly took over their minds, erasing all of their other needs.
Yesterday, two wealthy sorority girls had knelt on either side of him in worship, his ebony pillar between them. No matter how much he asked for payment, they kept paying. Just two days prior, Professor Laurie had been bent over her desk offering her tight ass to him, the ruthless dealer having taken away most of her salary. The pure amazement and fascination that this particular white girl displayed at such an exotic experience was remarkable—her face pressed into the side of the fragrant midnight meat as she rolled her eyes up to seek approval; dragging her tongue along its length to lap up the musk and slurp down the pre-cum that continued to seep from its tip. There were moments where she couldn’t believe what she was doing—she had never been particularly attracted to giving head before this but now found herself practically begging for it like a starving dog. If her father saw her now, he might have a stroke. She didn’t need to worry if she just had another hit…
The vulgar black man taunted her, guiding her to stroking the sides of his thick African spear. Grunting hotly, he stared down at the now depraved little whore. “Heh. Fuckin' white slut. Jus' a fleshlight for a nigga. That's all y' were.” he growled, shivering as the pillar rewarded her with more and more potent nigger-nut. The throbbing black cock was shining from her hot saliva, the evil male sneering. “I fuckin' hate crackas like you. Aah...! I bet'cha wanna be the las' white cracka in y' ******. "
Soon, he was growling viciously as she stroked him. Licking his thick dark lips as his godly member pulsated in her small hands.
After a few minutes, he snarled as he shook violently, close to climax.
“Aaah…! Beg for that nigga cum, bitch...!" he growled.
Katie stroked hard; her pupils glazed… The image of a spade burning into her brain as she slurped and tongued the tip, her drool covered hands gripping the midnight black member as she remained transfixed on it, ignoring her own needy cunt so the ebony stud could cum.
With a weak whimper, she cried out…
“I need it, Sir! I need that nigga cum… I’ll get my little sister to suck your black cock this weekend… Just please give it to me!” She swore, offering him everything… She’d offer her very soul for just a drop of that divine African seed.
He let out a loud roar of pleasure, erupting all over her pretty face and covering her glasses.
…It was just the begging of her complete submission to her new gods.
I am releasing a second edition of this story to correct some of the poor editing.
After you're done getting off to this consider reading the second half Blacked Mind Control - Pumpkin Spice (Part II).
I have a NEW book out - Cucked During Quarantine. I'm sure you'll love it! ♥
#SayNoToWhiteBoys
-F
Blacked Mind Control – Pumpkin Spice (Part I)
Becky Graham pushed her friend out of the Uber as they arrived. Becky was a 21-year-old blonde, short and slim, insisting that the other upper class southern girl join her on this outing. She was the granddaughter of an Alabama governor, and a fitting accompaniment to Senator Lee's ********. In stark contrast, Becky preferred to let loose rather than studying - something that her 18-year-old companion didn't approve of.
“God, you could be so boring sometimes!” she said, running her fingers across her short pink skirt. Her white see-through blouse revealed her black bra underneath.
The sound of music coming from the Zeta Beta Frat House was unmistakable, even before they reached the entrance. The fraternity was notorious for their wild parties, and the heavy bass reverberated throughout the building.
Above was a creamy white ornately carved archway. Becky pushed the doorbell, turning to make sure her friend she pressured did not flee.
A sly smile was on her pink painted lips.
It took months of coaxing, the blonde finally making her friend acquiesce once midterms were over to joined her for a fun night.
Only on the ride over did she mention it was at a frat. Even worse? A black frat. Her racist father and white boyfriend would be livid if they knew.
“Why were yo
The brunette companion was less than thrilled when she learned of tonight's destination. Katelyn hadn't gone far enough to jump out the car when they reached their destination, but she had thought about it. A black fraternity? Fried chicken and rap music? She shudders at the mere thought. Becky had convinced her to wear a blue halter top with a too-short black skirt, along with her boyfriend's letterman jacket for coverage, yet she still feels *******. The young woman reaches into her pocket, feeling the security of her cellphone. Should she just call an Uber and go back home?
Katelyn knew she had no argument to make against Becky, so she tried another tactic. Her voice growing quieter, she insisted that she wouldn't fit in at a party "like this". Her big blue eyes implored her friend from behind her glasses as the unfamiliar beat pulsed around them. She shudders again at the thought of what her *** would think of such a noise.
“Maybe we should just turn around and head back,” she said, but it was too late; the door was opening.
“You need to learn how to relax,” she replied before a tall lanky man appeared in the doorway. He smirked down at them, wearing a black college basketball jersey, and he greeted them.
“Hey ladies. Looking nice tonight!” He said.
Becky stepped closer to him and put her hand on his chest. “Mmn, hey Marcus. Where was Jamal tonight?” She purred.
“Den.” He responded and moved out of the way, allowing them entrance. As they entered the room, many eyes were glued to them; most of the party members were black men and women, with only two white males present who seemed disinterested in the events of the night.
Becky took Kate's wrist gently with her delicate hand and guided her inside towards the den where several frat brothers leered at them as they passed by. Katelyn swallowed hard as they opened the door, feeling nervous as she noticed the dark shapes appear in the light from within. It wasn't that they were all black that made her uneasy--she tried to tell herself this--but simply because she felt intimidated by the unfamiliar surroundings. Music thumped loudly without the door blocking it, and an unidentifiable sweet smell tickled her nose.
There's no more time to pull Becky backed since; she's already slipped inside and left Kate out in the cold. No real option, then! she's already made it this far, and worst came to worst she could just slipped out and get a ride home. So, she steps in, following behind and trying not to noticed the way dark eyes followed the seat of her skirt as she brushes past.
She keeps her jacket on: it broadcasts to the world that she has in fact already had a boyfriend. Craig's on the crew team and everything. Not that she's worried about one of these guys trying to pick her up; it's not like they're animals. Sure, her *** would tell her that going to a party like means she's sure to be befouled by a 'pack' of them but that's just because he's an old racist and she's sure none of it had rubbed off on her.
"Whose Jamal?" she hisses out, tugging her wrist and trying to get Becky's attention. It sure feels like there were a lot of eyes on her, and she could felt a telltale blushed already forming on her gently-freckled cheeks.
“Jamal was just a guy from my communications class.” she explained, leading her friend deeper into the lion's den as girls shamelessly twerked again ebony studs or sat proudly in their lap. “Relax. Hasn't be a wet blanket.” Becky insisted, entering the den and to a sofa beside the ornate wooden stairwell. Sitting on the red leather sofa was a tall toned college senior, his dreadlocks flowing passed his shoulders. He wore a Lakers jersey and jeans with expensive Air Jordan’s on his feet. His stoic faced smirked when he saw Becky.
He stood up, the white girl throwing herself into his arms to hugged against him and felt that firm body. She was already soaking wet from being surrounded by real men, but kept it hidden as he leaned forward and she whispered something unintelligible into his ear making him grinned.
“Hey, girl. I'm Jamal.” he said warmly, giving her a sly smile as he looked down. "
“You seem tense. You okay, girl?"
Katelyn looked around the party with wide, astonished eyes, her thin-rimmed glasses magnifying her shock. Everything was so much like it was in the movies, but she had always assumed that those types of images were just exaggerated. She believed she saw a girl from her statistics class with someone she didn't recognize, but the woman vanished into the crowd of dancers and Katelyn found herself in another room. Her face felt hot and flushed and she yelled to make herself heard over the loud music. “Uhm, I'm okay! Just don't usually go to these types of events.” She wanted to meet Becky's gaze, wondering if Jamal was her boyfriend. Taking Craig's jacket more firmly onto her shoulders, Katelyn tried to use it as a shield against everything happening around her. The spicy sweet smell of sweat and something else assaulted her nose and she couldn't even smell Craig's aftershave mixed in anymore.
Jamal slung one arm around Becky who smiled goofily up at him. “I think you can help loosen her up some, Daddy," she practically purred, winking at him.
The man grinned, inwardly savoring the situation before letting his amusement show. "It's a bit much for your friend here, don't you think?" he asked Katelyn as he held out his large dark hand for her to take. "Maybe something like pumpkin spice would help her relax? Something that you white girls are all into, right?" Jamal joked, watching as Becky briefly frowned in annoyance.
Katelyn was well aware of how she looked: almost too thin and much too pale, freckles sprinkled across her skin. She was completely out of place at this frat party filled with black people; she felt fear, but there was also anger directed at herself. How could she even think of running away when clear Becky trusted these people?
Jamal gestured towards the other room where it was slightly quieter and Katelyn nodded.
"Yeah!" she shouted to be heard over the music. "It's just... kinda loud in here!" For a moment her eyes tracked Jamal's hand on Becky's body as a chill ran up her spine, but she quickly shook off the thought.
Jamal gestured to the room behind the stairwell, Becky and Kate following him in. The room was hazy due to the hookah sitting in the middle of it that had apparently been recently used. Jamal took a seat on one side of it, and Becky snuggled up against him on the other side, patting the cushion next to her for Kate to sit down.
"You ever tried pumpkin spice?" Jamal asked.
Becky's licked her lips as she gave a pleading look with her blue eyes. “It's the best, Katie. Try it!"
Kate hesitantly obliged, feeling a little out of place compared to the two. As she sat down, the music in the background lessened to a dull hum, and its lyrics became muffled. She nervously eyed the hookah while giving it some distance from her as she sat down with straight posture and folded hands on her lap. The air in this room was warmer than the one where people were crowded in together, and filled with an intense scent of spices and sweetness that drifted throughout the entire house.
She wasn't stupid - quite the contrary! "Is that, ah. A kind of weed or something? I know there's different kinds and I-," her gaze flicks guiltily to Becky, she had never actually told her friend this before, "- smoked some in high school, once. But I don’t know what… strain it was."
Jamal entertained her query with a playful smirk. "Oh...? You a secret bad girl then, Katie...?" he taunted, lifting the hose to his lips for another deep drag of the strong marijuana. He exhaled, and his rich brown eyes glaze over from the pleasure of it all.
Becky couldn't wait any longer and snatched the pipe away from him. "Ooh, I’ve been thinking about this all week," she admitted before puffing on the mind-altering substance. She shivered in ecstasy, her light blue eyes becoming glossed over as a light shade of pink colored her cheeks; this specific strain has an especially potent effect on white girls like her while having the opposite effect on white males who got the dreaded 'pumpkin dick' where their puny erections would not rise again after a week of use if they were ******* for too long, making them sterile in the process.
She greedily inhaled at the mouthpiece before finally handing it off to Katie.
Katelyn's eyes widened as the pipe touched her friend's lips and cheeks. The sweet smell of the fragrant smoke permeating the air further thickened the miasma in the room, causing Katelyn to shiver with anticipation. Heat was rising around her, so she shrugged off her boyfriend's jacket and revealed a low-cut halter top that showed hints of her freckled cleavage.
Timidly, she accepted the mouthpiece and inhaled deeply. Instead of harshness, she found the smoke surprisingly smooth and gentle. She coughed out her breath, feeling an instant warmth flow through her body and raising goosebumps on her skin. "W--whoa--," she uttered in a whisper while blinking hard. She felt something, for sure.
Becky grinned mischievously, climbing over Jamal's lap and settling her hips against his. She rested her chin on Katelyn's shoulder and spoke in a sultry tone, "Tasty, isn't it?" as she grasped the wooden hose end. She knew Katelyn was starting to become addicted to the drug; it was slowly taking away her will and completely rewiring her brain, making her insatiably aroused and extremely fertile.
Jamal's large hand already kneaded Becky's ample bottom, making her gasp softly before she brought the end of the pipe to Katelyn's lips. “Let go of your inhibitions,” she murmured. “Prove to Jamal that you aren't just another stuck-up white girl.” Katelyn inhaled deeply before Becky removed the pipe from her mouth and pressed her soft pink lips against Katelyn's, allowing her to exhale into her lungs. The blonde trembled slightly under the sensations coursing through her body.
Without a word, Jamal shoved two $100 bills into Becky's back pocket before smacking her butt hard enough to make her yelp and break the kiss. The corrupted white girl smiled at her friend whom she had just sold out to the frat before returning to Jamal's other side.
"Katie.” the other high-class white girl uttered. “I want you to look at something." she mused, reaching down and undoing Jamal's belt. Unbuckling it and undoing the front of his jeans, she reached into fish out 12" of throbbing ebony godcock. Precum beading from the tip. Leaning in, she planted a heated kissed on the tip, slurping up the precum as she began stroking it.
“Your white boyfriend this big…?" she asked, mischief dancing in her glazed eyes.
Katelyn had barely begun to process the sensations of her first hit when Becky leaned in and forced another puff. “Wait, I--” she stuttered, feeble attempts at shoving her friend away with half-numb hands.
Kissing was bizarre enough, but the spicy smoke that invaded her lungs sent shivers through her body. Her nipples stood firm against her bra and shirt; her cheeks flushed red with freckles standing out all the more; and between her legs a tingle took over, urging her to call up her boyfriend and see what he was doing - though these thoughts were cut off as Becky pulled back. Katelyn tried to get up from the couch, only to find every motion made the sensations worse; then, Becky presented something that caused Katelyn to gasp in shock.
“You couldn’t just—oh my god, Becky!” She mumbles out half-turning her head away, unable to look at it. But even in the corner of her eye she can make out its incredible shape. Her mouth hangs open as her neck twists back so she can take in the sight fully. “Oh my god…” she says again, feeling dizzy and mesmerized. The huge black cock is pulsating and almost seems to absorb every ray of light in the room. “No, he’s...smaller.” she stutters in a soft voice full of reverence, remembering how absurd it was to compare her boyfriend's tiny worm to something like this. Next thing she knows, she finds herself kneeling down at Jamal's feet, entranced by what she sees. One hand is holding the thick black shaft while the other weaves into Kate's hair, pushing her head down gently while whispering sweet pumpkin spice words that seem to fill her fragile mind with ease.
She was drawn to it, unable to resist. As Becky spoke, Katelyn hung onto her every word, her conscious mind succumbing to the overwhelming sensation. Thinking of her ex-boyfriend – Greg? Craig? George? What was his name? – faded away as she edged closer and closer. She could feel the heat emanating from the object even before their lips met, with a kiss beginning mid-shaft and rising higher. A moan escaped her lips; she'd never felt anything like this before with any of the white boys she had been with. Could it be because this was a black man?
Jamal grunted in response to her kiss, his gaze trained on hers as he brushed against her newfound addiction. Was this really happening? Would she ever be able to think of anyone but niggers in this way again?
“That's my good girl," he murmured when they pulled away from their kiss, staring down into her hazy eyes. His hands replaced Becky's holding the back of Katelyn's head as he leaned in for another deep kiss. When he pushed her away, she smiled sweetly at him. "He's all yours, Daddy," she murmured as Becky stumbled up from behind her, grabbing hold of her boyfriend's jacket. Reaching in, she fished out her keys and discarded them with her purse on the floor. “I’ll go throw this in the fire.” the white girl said, getting off on the evil of stealing her away from her loving white boy forever.
The sound of her closing the door behind her could be heard as he pressed down harder, entering her throat as he growled hotly, staring down.
She was barely cognizant of what was happening above her head. There were words spoken and motions that were momentary distractions, but the only thing she really noticed was the motion of the cloth around her arms. She raises them, letting the jacket slide right off like she's shedding a layer of skin, paying it about as much mind as she would a breeze. The jacket had been someone's, she's pretty sure. Someone important? Probably. Maybe. But how could that be? How could there be anything else important besides the bloated black cockhead now nestled into the waiting space in her mouth?
It was unreal. It was perfection. Her lips form a careful ring around the far side of the tip as her tongue washed around it, flicking slow circles that lap the stain of salty, tangy pre from the slit at the tip repeatedly. She nursed the tip, suckling at it like it's a mother's teat with slow slurping inhalations. Eyes rolled at each new one, because the flavor and might of it never faded.
Maybe her *** was right to be worried about her going to this kind of party, a detached part of her brain muses. He had been proud and stupid to think he could hide this from her. The hand on her head had not let her move far, but she could manage an inch or two -- just enough to pop the head out, so her lips could press constant kisses around it as she speaks. “I’m -- sorry --" she mumbles out, wondering how she could possibly apologize for everything at once -- her own stupidity, her race's inferiority and pride and misdeeds -- the weakness in her blood. “I-- didn't know.” was all she could managed as lips kissed backed down the shaft. By the time she reached his balls, the towering midnight shaft had scrubbed her lily-white cheeks and knocked her glasses upwards -- not off, but the stained lenses dangled somewhere up in her hair, forgotten.
He sneered from ear-to-ear from her apology. White guilt was always deep inside pathetic little snowbunnies like her. A white person's main purpose in life...? White girls were for breeding and white boys were for disposal. It wasn't racism - it was evolution. Jamal grunted as he stroked her head, rewarding her for the first confessions of her inferiority. With no hesitation, he pushed the Senator's innocent white ********'s face into his large balls to make her lick and suckle at them a moment, the teen inhaling the brain-rotting musk.
“White girls like you...? Heh. Your only value are those three warm wet holes and your fertile womb.” The cruel dominant alpha male said, making her taste the powerful African musk that would burn into her silly brain forever. “You're a nigger's whore. Say it, girl.” He ordered sternly.
Her chin drops, her lips pressed in. She inhales the superior musk -- natural, untamed. Was it the drugs, that make her feel so faint and small before the might of this massive ebony Zulu-spear? Or would she feel like this anyway? She couldn’t tell the difference now, and it soon won't matter anyway. The taste and texture of black balls against her cheeks, lips, and tongue was snapping at the most primitive parts of her brainstem, short circuiting neurons that were over-written entirely.
“I’m a nnn--" she starts, but the word snarls in her mouth. She feels dizzy, but she knows the room wasn't spinning around her. It's spinning around the black cock pressed against her faced, throbbing heat into every part of her. The most important thing in the universe. She manages it on the second try. “I’m a nigger's whore.” her hand even managed to move -- had it been her jacket weighing her down? maybe so. Where it moved was important too -- deeper into her lap, clutching at her skirt and the slit below in a way that sends a surge of flickering heat through her head. “I’m a nigger's whoooore--" she repeats, slurping at black balls with newfound intensity.
At last, he pulled her away. His balls made a lewd wet pop as her lips were pulled away. Saliva made the member glisten from root to tip. Grinning impishly, he gave her pretty face a playful slap to redden her cheek. “Take off your clothes, girl. I want some pussy.” Jamal ordered, used to getting anything he wanted from white girls.
Kate would be the twenty-forth girl he knocked up on that sofa. But, one of the three he would 'keep' due to her high status. He slid off his jersey and removed his baggy jeans and boxers. He ******** that toned black body. Malik was almost hairless but for the neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair above his race killing tool.
“Niggers only want one thing, pumpkin.” her father's voiced said, echoing in her ear.
There would be no discussion of protection. Rubbers were racist unless white boys were wearing them. Then again, even touching white boy's cock was racist.
She had so much to learn...
She whined as she was pushed away, gasping like a landed fish for a few moments as streamers of spit connect her lowered lip to the ebon shaft and swollen balls. The slap broke her out of it, and incidentally sent her glasses even further askew -- now dangling by one stem nestled behind her right ear until she brings a numb hand up and pushes them back into their proper place. It didn’t really help -- a milky swatch of leftover cock-grease across one lens, but she tolerated it anyway.
Her daddy had been right, she realizes as she starts to pick at the hem of her carefully picked blue halter top. It lifted easily, and her hands hooked behind to find the clasped of her modest purple bra next. Niggers want to take, steal, use, breed like rabbits, and fill the world with more of them. What had been wrong was thinking any of that was bad.
Jamal had said something earlier, she muses as the bra fell too. Her tits were modest sized but perky and proud -- canted upwards just a little so even kneeling her point-hard pink nipples looked up at her god. What was the word he used? Oh, right. Fertile. He said fertile.
Her thumbs hooked into the sides of her skirt, and she pushed down, taking her panties with it. Panties that stick, for a moment -- soaked through and filmy with the gushed of heat that had been leaking from her since she sat down. She stood as she pulled them free; showing off her own tended little tuft of innocent auburn below lips partially parted with seething desire already.
“I’m sorry--" she mumbled again, shivering. “My daddy lied to me-- all my life, everyone lied to me. We're not better. We're worse. We're-- scum. "
Jamal chuckled. “What a woke little white girl.” he insisted, taking her dainty wrists and helping her onto the sofa. A pillow under her head and a thicker pillow under her cute ass to lift her hips higher for the deepest penetration. Most of his white bitches were rutted from behind like the brainless animals they were. Nigger baby breeding stock. Katelyn...? Oh, he wanted to make sure she saw that thick black cock filling her. He wanted the image to sear into her white girl brain forever.
Holding her ankles, he tilted her legs backed, spreading them wide. Holding the base of his member, the rubbed the domed head of the ebony monolith up and down her soaking pink cunt. The only thing having entered her before were her own fingers and her boyfriend's condom covered little white cock. Easing his hips forward, he slowly began to impale her. Grunting hotly at he stared down at her, stretching her as if she were a virgin. In a way, she was. She never fucked a real man before.
A third of him was barely inside of her as he stared down, gasping. “You want a nigger to fuck you, don't 'cha...?" he snarled.
He's so big, so strong. So assured. She lets him take her in hand, position her just as he wants. Her head nods as he has, obediently stretching legs wide and displaying for him the pink slickness of her need. Normally shy inner lips were thicker and aching, pink at the base and purple with flushed arousal at the apex. It glitters, it drips -- and she knew she's never been this wet before. Just the act of opening her legs sends a pulse of pleasure through her, an animal instinct she didn't know she had. Showing herself off for an alpha. A god. A nigger.
When it touches her, she gasped, and when he pushed in she wailed. The music pumping from the other room helps blanket the cheer that goes up from the sound of another white girl getting what she's always needed but never known. The black crown vanishes into the heat of her, then an inch, another inch -- so fat and wide it dents her opening inward, snug against the walls of her tender sheath. It's never felt like this before. Was it even sex, then?
“I I I --" her voiced shimmied up, but words were so difficult to find. “I need a nigger to fuck me! I need you! I need it I I I--" she trailed off again, hips giving a heave that filled her another inch and forced her to choke on the air itself. Eyes bugged out, hands flailed at nothing. She stared down at the place black cock was spearing into her, changing her forever.
The thick ebony cock invaded her lily-white body. Each inch stretching her further. Reshaping her to fit him. The way the west would come like she did for their ebony gods and goddesses. Two-thirds of him filled her, the tip pressing against that twitching little cervix of hers. With an evil smirk, he stared down into her blue eyes. Sweat making his brow glisten as he thrusted forward with his powerful hips, pushed passed the narrow barrier as if it were nothing. A perfect metaphor for her race.
Entering her fertile womb, his tip kissed against its wall. Leaning forward, he kissed each of her pointed nipples before rewarding her with a kiss on her pink lips. His dark masculine lips pressed against hers, his hands grasping her ankles as his hips rolled. The two finally meeting as she took all of him, his tongue invading her little mouth as each thrust made her chest bounced. Nipples rubbed against his toned dark chest.
Her eyes rolled, breath heaving in and out of her in uncontrolled gasps. By halfway he's deeper than any of the white boys she's ever been with, and the sensation of having her cervix touched by s throbbing cock was wholly new. She whimpered when she felt it, voice rising in a rasping gurgle that sends her eyes wide and rolling. Her legs opened so wide she wonders if her hips will be popped from their socket. Then she wondered if she would even notice over the symphony of impossible pleasure the nigger cock inside her was stirring out.
When he passed through that barrier, Katelyn was overcome completely. “Please, please -- so good--" she babbled again, frothing at the mouth from the wakened instinct inside. A pretty white girl, Senator's ********. Such a future had been in front of her until tonight - a life wasted on learning white nonsense and party politics, when all she really needed to do was accept the divine superiority of the black man inside her. When was her last period? She couldn’t remember now, could bare think. It doesn’t matter, though. If he hasn't bred her this time, it's not like she's going to remember that she's supposed to go to class tomorrow.
Each thrust would erase more of her love for her boyfriend and replace it with love for the African race. Each hard thrust pounding her into the old leather sofa, the white girl's fate to be the house's white fuck toy sealed more. Used day in and day out for the pleasure of the frat's brothers - $5 tipped to Jamal of course each fucking. The little white girl would sleep in his bed or on his floor when he was with an ebony goddess.
And she'd be happy.
The warping of her brain would be permanent. Her days spent riding black cocks and smoking weed were now certain.
The image in her mind of that flat white tummy she stared at as that dark soaking pillar thrust into her...? Her white tummy swelling with her breasts. An incubator for black babies they would adopt out to black families. The idea of his potent seed breeding her. Erasing her white bloodline forever.
Oh, god…! He was so hard. Shaking violently. He was close!
The god-cock inside her scrubbed her inner walls with every stroke. The tip of it snags flesh and bends the entire channel from opening to womb before the might of an invader. That invader was bigger, badder, and blacker than any other had ever been. Each time he pulls back an inch there's glorious suction inside her that was reshaping her entire reproductive system -- and at the same time, her entire sense of self. Her toes were curling and her nails were raking against his broad black shoulder when she realizes that she's cumming, maybe had been cumming -- a rising tide of an orgasm that hadn’t receded like a wave but kept crashing through her until every sense was flooded.
The white girl below her new ebony god squeaked and whined as she came, the slick heat around him pulsing and begging for his completion. The thought of potent nigger seed filling every gap in her quivering womb made her cum again, and again -- because what could be better than the thought of bringing a new god into the world? It's what she was born for. It's what all white girls were born for. Was it to pay back the debt? Or was it just because black cock was the only type that matters?
“Please--" she managed, between torrents of pleasure that make tears drip down her face. “Fill me up. Cum in me. Make me yours… Make my body yours… breeed meee---"
He shook violently, using her so roughly that her thighs and firm ass would be bruised from his thrusts. Crashing against her again and again, their thighs made a lewd slapping noise almost in beat to the loud vulgar rap music playing. Some of the lyrics burned into her brain.
♪ Put that ass on a nigga, put that ass on a nigga, grind on that dick make it get a lil' bigga. ♪
Growling, he rammed into the now dishonest black cock addicted slut. He'd make her send a selfie of her riding his big black cock later to her white boyfriend as a notice they were breaking up. Maybe to all her contacts next...?
♪ Brothas ain't wear no rubbahs...! goin'a let latex came 'tween us...? Bitch, I ain't pullin' out. ♪
Their thighs were wetted each orgasm the broken white girl had. The slaps wetter and wetter as her little cunt squeezed and tried to milk him of every drop of cum.
♪ Could a nigga get in them guts? Cut you up like you ain't been cut! Show your ass how to really caught a nut. ♪
Every muscle on his dark glistening body tightened. Arching his back, he let out a howl of pleasure as he arched his hips, erupting inside of her with a howl of pleasure making the party on the other side of the wall cheer. A torrent of African godseed flooding her womb and overflowing her cunt.
Deep inside, millions of little Zulu warriors assaulted her egg. One invaded it with ease, impaling it and impregnating her with her first black baby.
♪ Game over, game over, dropped that snowbunny ass and give your white womb a black makeover. ♪
She had no way to really know that the conquering cock had already bred her. There's no inner signal or warning that her white egg was already ceding controlled to superior black generics. Maybe she's only imagined it, but still she somehow understood all of it. With her legs spread wide for a new black master, her hole gaped wide by black cock that thrusted so hard a froth of white-cunt-slick and black-cock-grease rises from the places that their bodies meet again and again with rhythmic wet thwacks as loud as the bass beat in the room beyond. Slap-slap-slap the noise rebounds as it takes her breath away, her brain away. Her life away.
She wants it. Badly enough that she screams and screams again. It almost sounds like a sob because she knows she's wasted her life so far. It could had always been like this. Maybe every day will be like this, now. Every night, every hour. Plugged by black cock, cumming for black cock, bred by black cock.
How could she ever want anything else?
A snapchat to her pathetic white boy ended that quickly, Kate ignoring his texts begging for an explanation. Little did she know he went hundreds of times to her photo, stroking his small white cock and whimpering her name.
That night she rode Jamal two more times and sucked the random black cock of a dude that offered her a hit of pumpkin spice kush. The ruined white girl was taken home with Becca in an uber and put to bed. The haze lifting, but the ever-vivid memory and need from her experience still there.
______________________________________________________________________________
Her dreams...? Of candles in the darkness slowly going out with soft whimpers before a single one was left. And, just as it went out her eyes would open.
Becca was already up, sitting in their small common area taking a puffed of a joint, now openly smoking weed in their little apartment. She grinned at Katelyn, patting the cushion beside her. “Sit. "
The thick fog of sleep faded slowly as she awoke. With each sensation that returned, the memories of last night grew clearer and more vivid. Her mouth tasted of salt and bleach, her lungs burned from smoke inhalation, and her ears still pulsed with a reverberating beat. True to form, He had been big and spread her wide—she said things she'd never thought of before, though she couldn't recall any of them now. She remembered texting Greg too late, shame filling her gut like bile.
Untouchable heat crept up her neck as she considered letting her hand drift further down against the part of her that still ached in memory. But a sharp scent tickled her nose; another day was beginning. She nodded at her housemate in silent greeting before sitting down at the table, cheeks reddening. She fiddled idly with the tablemat out of shyness, too embarrassed to start any conversation. Then Becky flashed her an amused smirk that said it all: the girl knew exactly what had gone on last night.
“You're such a good white girl. Jamal said so.” she encouraged, her hand going to her friend's sore thigh to rub it soothingly. “Soon enough you'll learn how great a hot bath can be for aching muscles. Black cocks are never soft for very long.” she informed her demure pal. “Your cuck called me crying, desperate to know what was happening and if you were all right. I told him to go kill himself. Ugh.” she spat, revolted at the image of a white guy.
“I only put up with my white boy because he’s been castrated and showers me with gifts. It won't be long before he has outlived his usefulness. Then I'll let the guys at the frat have him.” she chuckled, kind of aroused at the thought of them beating him into oblivion. “I bet you want me to introduce you to my dealer, don't you...? Can't have you smoking all my pumpkin spice, babe."
Not-so-innocent Katelyn takes the joint between her digits, not sure exactly how to hold it. She watches as the smoke wafts from its end for a few seconds, attempting to think of something to say. “He sent me like. A hundred messages. But I just haven't...” she stammers, inhaling without taking a drag on the joint. Just drinking in its spicy-sweet bouquet in the air is enough to make tiny hairs stand on end down her neck."Take care - every time I thought of him I felt so gross that he ever touched me.” She says it honestly but then feels strange for vocalizing it; why does she bother thinking so much? Why can't she just enjoy life? With this thought, Katelyn brings the joint to her lips and inhales.
When she exhales it’s with a combination of coughed and nearly sneezed -- she was still getting used to all this. “J-- Jamal's not your supplier?" she inquires, feeling thrilling sensations run through her. She hadn't even put on a bra before sneaking out of her room, so the way her nipples hardened under her t-shirt was very noticeable. “And what did you mean by -- gelded?"
She chuckled at the thought of her white boyfriend crying and pumping his little white dick somewhere. It was amusing. A perfect description of the current state of the men of the Caucasian race. “Just ghost him.” Her friend insisted, hearing her mention Jamal and pumpkin spice.
“Nah. He knows people, but Reggie was my dealer. You text him and he brings it over. He may make you sucked his big black cock a little too. But, that's what you get when you're surrounded by white girls." She murmured, her mouth watering a bit as she contemplated the husky brother's thick black penis.
“Don't hoard the spice, Katie.” Becky lamented, reaching forward in an attempt to take a huge puff as it sat between her friend's fingers. Slightly eager as she released a cloud of sweet spicy smoke into the air. “Your younger sibling still coming up this weekend...? I bet if you let The brothers have her all weekend they'll supply you for a month." She pondered aloud, her hand sliding up her friend's thigh as she spoke. “Jamal wants you to come by tonight. He likes his women wearing a spade tattoo with silver nipple studs."
Katelyn nodded along as Becky described how things work around here, then quivered at the reference to her sister. “As far as I know she's still coming! but she's--"
She handed the joint back, feeling the effects of what she'd already taken. Her heart raced and a goofy smile crossed her face as she thought about getting to suck a fat black cock. The baggie was just a bonus! Shaking her head to clear away the fog, she realized that 18 was too young to know all the truth about the superiority of black men. Something else Becky mentioned made her pale; had she really said something about getting a tattoo? Wasn't that only for porn stars? Where would she even be able to get one done?
"You think they care, Katie...? Heh. You're so cute and innocent," Becky chuckled. "Niggers just want to cum in white pussy. Besides, soon every white girl will be serving the black race. Better you learn early!" She stood up, wearing only Jamal's large jersey and some panties. Pulling down the front band revealed a spade above her shaved cunt with the words 'black cock only' written underneath it. Prouder still of her new tattoo, Becky teased her by leaning forward and gesturing towards it.
"Kiss this tattoo. Show me how thankful you are for the education I had Jamal give you."
Katelyn felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she realized how long it had taken her to recognize what her friend was saying. Staring at the black spade drawn on their body made Katelyn realize just how envious she was of them. She'd spent all semester refusing the other girl's urging for her to become more daring, and after experiencing the unique high from smoking pumpkin and tasting African cock, everything had changed.
Kissing the symbol meant so much more than just subservience to black cock, it showed dedication to this ideal. Maybe that sociology class wasn't a complete waste after all. But then she remembered why she was here in the first place and looked up at the clock, realizing she'd already missed the first half hour of class. She considered skipping some classes but decided against it - although perfection wasn't necessary, she needed good grades to stay in college.
“Thank you,” Katelyn muttered shyly. “I could have gone my whole life thinking that gross white boy was the best I could do."
Her roommate grinned when they saw Katelyn's newfound appreciation for her lifestyle, and Becky encouraged her to express her gratitude with a few dime bags of pumpkin.
“I'm heading off to class; you should take the day off," Becky suggested as she leaned down to give Katelyn a soft kiss on the lips. “We are true besties now; be a good bestie and get us some pumpkin...?” she asked in an almost pleading voice.
The bookish girl hesitates, regretting her decision to so easily let go of the joint. If only she hadn't gave it up so quickly, perhaps she wouldn't have skipped class. But nothing could be done now. She hardly mutters an agreement before Becky leaves, leaving behind a number that looks like a venomous snake waiting to strike. She's never been involved in any kind of drug dealing before; her father was a politician and he had always expected her to stay out of trouble. Now she knows how much he was lying to her all this time.
She moves the cursor on her phone and taps the given number, scrolling past the 214 notifications from Greg or whatever his name is... "Hey, Becky gave me this number, said you could help us out?"
A reply comes almost immediately --- "$25 a bag. $40 for two".
It's a steep price but not unmanageable; she had enough money in her bank account that her rich white daddy pays her 'allowance' into.
It doesn't take long until she feels a wave of anxiety wash over her; this was probably the most illegal thing she has ever done! Black cock is one thing, but being on the wrong side of the law? Well... She can just imagine what would happen if her *** found out.
She was so nervous she was about to jump in the shower, when her phone buzzed with the news. It wasn’t as expensive as she had expected it to be – a mere night out on the town!
“Okay, I’ll take two then. Do we meet up somewhere or…?”
Kate thought about asking how much the offer actually was, but then decided against it. She didn’t want to seem stupid for her lack of experience. After taking off all her clothes, she stepped into the hot shower and started washing away the sweat from last night. How luxurious it felt! If only it would have been even better with a black man in there with her...
Her fingers moved south as she thought about her new god--a big black cock--and waited for his reply. A ‘typing’ icon appeared, and soon came the message: “I come to you. You at Becky's? Send a selfie so I know you’re real.”
The lecherous black man wanted an image of Kate before he could ask for something else in exchange for the pumpkin spice he bought her. Even though morning had already aroused her, there was still an ache inside that needed more than just fingers tracing along it to awaken. Jamal had been incredibly big after all! Maybe she needed a thick black dildo to keep her satisfied while away from the frat house?
She hadn't had the opportunity to think about protection. He was so deep inside her, pushing right into her womb -- and for a few moments, she wondered if she could already be pregnant. The thought alone almost made her climax, but then her phone buzzed, breaking up her concentration.
Shutting off the shower, she stepped out onto her bathroom floor, dripping wet. Working the phone with her left hand was easier as her right fingers were still slick from her arousal. She took a selfie and sent it without hesitation; even though only a bit of skin below the collar was shown in the photo, part of her questioned why she hadn’t shown more. “Yeah, I'm her roommate. How soon will you get here?” replied to the message she sent earlier.
“20 minutes”
He arrived five minutes later than he said he would -- and there standing at the door was a 46-year-old husky black man with a thick beard and bald head covered by a black doo rag. Rough baggy jeans and a crimson muscle shirt covered his frame while his broad smile revealed two glimmering golden teeth. He thought about encountering a cute little white college snowbunny who needed some pumpkin spice.
Oh geez. 20 minutes? That's not really a lot of time! At least she had already showered; fresh and clean with scrubbed sparkling skin -- but there wasn’t enough time for her messy slightly-too-curly hair to dry completely before he showed up. She knew it would just frizz up if she tried blow-drying it! She really needs to get that stupid diffuser.
Her mind raced, filled with excitement about meeting the black god in less than half an hour to make the drug deal. The thought alone made her stomach turn but she quickly put on her red satin bra and panties, a gift from…whatever his name was. She remembered wearing them for someone else once, and she almost threw them away before deciding against it. She finished the outfit off with the too-short shorts that she doesn't usually wear outside and a BLM shirt she got from a protest. Too busy getting ready, she only realized when it was time to open the door that she had forgotten to get cash from the ATM downstairs.
"Uhm. Hi! you must be Reggie, right? um. Come in!" She stepped aside to let him enter, admiring his sparkly grill.
Reggie sneered as he saw what she was wearing; another white girl converted to mindless Black race worshiping SJW. He walked past her and sat down at their common area sofa, placing two 2 gram bags of pumpkin spice weed on the coffee table. Leaning back on the sofa, he expected a little 'extra' for his services.
"$45 plus a tip, girl." He said with a sly smirk, pointing to his belt buckle.
“Unless you're racist.” he declared, aware that his words would cut deep into the white female's sense of guilt.
She watched as he walked away, grateful to be caught up in the aroma of African man along with her beloved scent of pumpkin spice. She hesitates before closing the door, needing a moment to catch her breath. When she turns around, the bearded black man is already sitting there, taking up most of the room effortlessly.
“I'm not a racist!"she exclaims, pointing to her shirt as a means of proof. “But I…uhm. Forgot to get any money. Could I go downstairs now and come back after? Or...uhm” she trails off, stepping forward until she stands right in front of him and focuses on his belt buckle. One hand nervously playing with the other as she speaks. She briefly considered offering sexual favors in exchange for payment but realized halfway through that he could do that anyway if he wanted. That was probably why she leaned in and tugged at the leather buckle without thinking twice
He scoffs at her words. “Bitch, you better be good for it. Now shut the fuck up an' put some black dick in that mouth." Reggie responded gruffly, having little patience for silly white college girls; they were just living fleshlights to a Nubian lord like himself. From what Reggie knew, over 50 white girls from her campus alone were providing daily blowjobs to desperate customers willing to pay any amount; two had even gotten pregnant with Reggie's child!
Katelyn visibly shrinks under his scorn.
“I promise I was!” she muttered, crestfallen at having let down the black man who had graced her with his presence. She had invited him in and he had tried to help her out, and this is how she repays him? Just another broken promise by the white race. She quickly slid his belt off and wrapped her hands around his pants, eagerly feeling the expanse of fat cock below as she undid the button.
Her eyes roamed hungrily to the baggies on the table – a joint sounded nice right about now, but she didn’t know how to roll one. There were other more important things anyway. As soon as his pants were opened,10 inches of throbbing ebony fuckmeat was ******* to her. Girthier than Jamal with an even more musky scent mixed with a sweet pumpkin spice aroma. The taste of it still lingered in his precum, which beaded from the domed tip while both of his black balls swelled with African godseed for her to drink up. Even an older out-of-shape black man like him was divine. Everything about him made for breeding fertile little race traitors like her.
“Tch. You fuckin' white bitches couldn’t even think about getting my money first. Jus' pumpkin spice and black dick, huh?” he scoffed smugly. His words made her wonder if her cute little sister would be sucking this black dealer's cock next week for some special mind-altering weed...? What could possess her to give away so much?
The four-eyed bookish white girl gazes in awe at the thing dangling before her, emitting an exotic African musk. Instantly captivated, she reaches out with one hand and begins to stroke the shaft. Her glasses go askew as she leans forward, inhaling its heady scent; her heart races and her knees turn weak. Was it the pumpkin spice? She had only smoked one with Becky today – did its effects last so long? All she knows is that the most pressing thought in her mind is to make sweet love noises while drooling around the big black balls.
"Oh--sorry," she blushes, pumping the obsidian shaft up before letting it back down with a spittle lolling around its tip. "I wanted to look nice for you and this is the first time I've ever bought anything like this. I only smoked it last night and and now everything's different and I just can't stop thinking about black cock and black gods..." She closes her eyes, whimpering like some wild animal in heat. God!
Her sister's coming this weekend – how can she possibly keep herself from doing this for that long? As her slender white hand struggles to wrap itself around his thick girth, precum seeps freely from his tip and he lets out soft grunts of pleasure. White girls were always like this - too needy.
The black cock was a powerful narcotic, and when combined with the pumpkin spice, it slowly took over their minds, erasing all of their other needs.
Yesterday, two wealthy sorority girls had knelt on either side of him in worship, his ebony pillar between them. No matter how much he asked for payment, they kept paying. Just two days prior, Professor Laurie had been bent over her desk offering her tight ass to him, the ruthless dealer having taken away most of her salary. The pure amazement and fascination that this particular white girl displayed at such an exotic experience was remarkable—her face pressed into the side of the fragrant midnight meat as she rolled her eyes up to seek approval; dragging her tongue along its length to lap up the musk and slurp down the pre-cum that continued to seep from its tip. There were moments where she couldn’t believe what she was doing—she had never been particularly attracted to giving head before this but now found herself practically begging for it like a starving dog. If her father saw her now, he might have a stroke. She didn’t need to worry if she just had another hit…
The vulgar black man taunted her, guiding her to stroking the sides of his thick African spear. Grunting hotly, he stared down at the now depraved little whore. “Heh. Fuckin' white slut. Jus' a fleshlight for a nigga. That's all y' were.” he growled, shivering as the pillar rewarded her with more and more potent nigger-nut. The throbbing black cock was shining from her hot saliva, the evil male sneering. “I fuckin' hate crackas like you. Aah...! I bet'cha wanna be the las' white cracka in y' ******. "
Soon, he was growling viciously as she stroked him. Licking his thick dark lips as his godly member pulsated in her small hands.
After a few minutes, he snarled as he shook violently, close to climax.
“Aaah…! Beg for that nigga cum, bitch...!" he growled.
Katie stroked hard; her pupils glazed… The image of a spade burning into her brain as she slurped and tongued the tip, her drool covered hands gripping the midnight black member as she remained transfixed on it, ignoring her own needy cunt so the ebony stud could cum.
With a weak whimper, she cried out…
“I need it, Sir! I need that nigga cum… I’ll get my little sister to suck your black cock this weekend… Just please give it to me!” She swore, offering him everything… She’d offer her very soul for just a drop of that divine African seed.
He let out a loud roar of pleasure, erupting all over her pretty face and covering her glasses.
…It was just the begging of her complete submission to her new gods.
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