When we got to my house it was dark and strangely silent; as I entered the dark hallway I had to turn on a light to see. Tyrone and Peter were silent as well, and appeared nervous.
No one was home (at least that was what I thought at the time). I showed my guys into the living room and they relaxed on the couch while I fixed everyone a drink (and a double for me!). We toasted our new found friendship.
“To sexy white women,” said Tyrone, as we clinked glasses.
“Here, here,” said Peter, “especially to white women who crave black cock,” he joked.
“BIG black cocks,” I chimed in.
After some small talk, Peter turned my head to him and kissed me on the lips, languidly and with passion. I responded in kind and kissed him back. As we kissed I felt Tyrone’s hands unbutton my blouse, slip off my bra and begin massaging my breasts. Soon I was undressed from the waist up.
Tyrone unbuckled his belt, pulled down his trousers and shorts, exposing his cock to me for the first time in the light of the room. Its size and girth took away my breath. Ten inches at least, so dark it was purple, and with a head the size of a tennis ball. I began sucking his monstrous cock. With my husband I had always gagged if I took his cock even a few inches in my mouth but tonight the gag reflex was gone. I took every inch of his cock and loved it.
Peter had come around behind me and pulled off my skirt and panties. In a minute his equally large black cock was inside me, pounding his balls on my ass cheeks. We stayed that way for 5-10 minutes until I felt Tyrone’s cock begin to pulse. He was ready to cum and so was I. And so was Peter. My two black studs shot their hot jism in my mouth and pussy as my hips bucked with my orgasms.
Spent, we collapsed on the couch. Peter picked up his drink and offered a toast. “Once you go black you never go black, I’m sure you’ve heard that,” he said, “Now you’ve lived it.”
Not to be outdone, I replied, “There’s another saying we women have.” I paused for effect. “Black men are hungry for white, ‘cause we’re wet and tight.”
All three of us laughed. Down the darkened hallway there was movement. A figure stepped forward from the gloom. Peter was the first to see.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
"It's me, mom," said the voice. I would know that voice anywhere. My 18 year-old daughter, Chrissie.
"Come join the party," said Tyrone. What do I do now? |