I’m out on the prowl. I’m out searching for a stud to take home tonight. Someone to be my worthy and capable lover for the time. I need someone tough enough to fuck me in my husband’s presence and not be worried about him watching.
It’s hard sometimes to find such type of men. You won’t believe the enormous effort it takes. I am no working girl, but I’ve strolled past these streets plenty of times like an expert. Good men are abound everywhere, but true, worthy studs are as rare as digging for diamonds. You have to comb the streets hard to find them. I don’t bother corresponding with online studs. Most times, those are white boys pretending to be black men. Black men are the only men that I fuck. They are the only worthy men to take home to bed.
A festival was ongoing on the promenade. The tourists were out in large numbers, including local revellers. Dozens of fireworks shot and exploded into the crimson sky. The women were out, too—obviously, I’m not the only fisherman on the streets today. You can tell one from the other. Like me, their eyes are always roaming, always searching. They make like they are captivated by the parade, by the spray of confetti over their heads, by the loud, celebratory music that’s everywhere, but they were all out to sample the men. Out here on the promenade, there is plenty to choose from. I observed a few glances and caught several catcalls, but I’m in no hurry.
Some days I seek out two, even three studs. Those are days when my hormones are raging and my libido is on fire. Today, though, I want only one.
I set about investigating the dive bars that fill the back streets of the promenade. Curious eyes trail me as I sauntered past alleyways, crumbling tenement houses, and roadside gatherings. Talkative voices suddenly hush as I stroll past. I made eye contact with several, but I am undaunted by their stares. These are my hunting grounds where I’m bound to find the type of studs I want. Here, none of those leaching bitches are wont to bother me.
A bar’s doors swung open in front of me and I gasped at the sight of a Black god who had just stepped past it and was blocking my path. He wore a sleeveless jacket and grease-stained pants. He bore massive forearms, and a prominent scowl on his face. He glared at me like I was an irritant insect.
I attempted walking around him but he blocked my path. He said nothing. I said nothing. I was afraid and excited at the same time. He sensed my horniness.
“I know what you want,” he said to me.
He leered at me. I knew right away that I wanted him and he knew it too.
“Excuse me,” I said.
I tried walking past him again. He grabbed my arm and squeezed. I cried and struggled to free myself from his grip. He twisted my arm behind my back and shoved me into the bar, past its swinging doors.
A light in the room came on. I kept fighting to be free but no luck. He propped me against a table and pushed my dress upwards to expose my rump. I didn’t have on any underwear—those usually get in the way of my horniness.
He dropped to his knees, spread my ass cheeks apart and thrust his tongue into my ass crack. I instantly melted. I grabbed hold of the table, wanting him to continue.
To my consternation, he wasn’t alone in the room.
Other Black men came and surrounded me. They groped me all as if I were a virgin maiden about to be defiled. They hurried me out of my dress. They shoved me to my knees and I watched them scramble to unbutton their jeans and shorts. My fire was ablaze. My African god shoved his cock at my face and like the horny white whore that I was, I opened my mouth and swallowed him.
The others took their turns on me. One after the other I sucked, I slurped, I choked, and gagged on their cocks. I sucked as many cocks that I couldn’t tell one from the other. I spate on their dicks. I slobbered until I finally laid on my back on the ground and begged my African god to fuck me first. He stripped himself off his clothes then came down on me.
His cock was huge and impressive. I felt the world stop when he thrust inside me.
I screamed.
I wrapped my arms around him tight.
He went ahead and fed my pussy some more.
The others stood watch around us, blocking what little sunlight that filtered past the doors. I saw the men, but the light in the room distorted their faces. For a moment, they all looked like ghostly creatures. Except I heard them murmur. I heard them laugh, goading my African god to fuck me harder. Afterwards, he lifted me off the floor. He balanced my butt in his hands. I cried as his cock brushed against my G-spot. I responded by grinding my pelvis against his, feeling his cock stretch my cunt. He rested me on the table and held my legs apart and fucked me so hard I almost passed out from cumming too hard.
He pulled out of me and came over and sprayed his seed across my face. While I sucked him off, another man took his place and went ahead fucking me. Everyone took turns—there was no rush. They turned me over on my face and fucked me from behind. They fucked my mouth as well and spurted their seed down my throat.
They spray cum over my body.
They laughed and called me names – “slut... whore... bitch...”
I loved every minute of it.
They finished with me then wore their clothes and left the bar. I thought I was alone at first, but then I looked up and saw my African god smiling at me.
“Let’s go clean you up,” he said.
My body, including my blonde hair, was sticky with sweat and semen. I wasn’t ready to lose my diamond. Not when I’d had it this good.
“Okay,” I said. “But after I get cleaned up, you’re coming home with me.”
This is what white women really want but most are to afraid to take it.
Kudos! Decent erotica and very nice picture at the top. Wonderful illustrative photo for the subject.