Webcams and Sexstories

Read Real Personal and fictional Sex Adventures and Get Webcam Shows

Skip to: Content | Sidebar | Footer

Recent Posts
Recent Comments
    Personals Adultfriendfinder Videos

    Join Hot Webcam Girls and Couples


    Hookup Tonight with Hot Girls, Guys and Couples Free Click here

    Bee Cee Ess

    26 January, 2018 (13:29) | Interracial Sex Stories | By: Webcams and Sexstories

    by Ulyssa Kincaid (ulyssakincaid@yahoo.com)

    ***

    A mature social worker can’t help herself and falls in
    love with a young black man who just got out of prison.
    This leads to an addiction she hadn’t foreseen. (MMF,
    intr, preg)

    ***

    After I read some of the stories posted here, I felt
    that I’d found some kindred spirits in people I’d never
    met. I’m a forty-one year old white wife and mother who
    recently decided to move close to the university where
    my youngest son attends, so that we could share an
    apartment.

    I’d been married to the same man since the age of
    eighteen. By now, all of our children were either away
    at college or out on their own. Although my husband
    wasn’t my first man, and we’d been affably married for
    twenty-two years, Ray and I recently divorced a few
    months back. This was why I’d asked to move in with my
    youngest son.

    Before then, I’d been working for a privately funded
    social service agency as a caseworker for about nine
    years, when everything in my life changed. As you well
    know, the majority of those who apply for help in this
    country are mothers at or below the poverty line. Most
    of the time, these mothers are black.

    Naturally, we’ve had mothers as young as thirteen or
    fourteen and grandmothers as old as eighty come to us
    for help with their rent or their heat or merely to ask
    us to lend an ear to a problem or a question.

    One day, Bette, an African American woman in her late
    forties, brought one of her sons along with her. My
    heart nearly stopped when I met him. Tyron was about
    twenty years of age and absolutely the epitome of a
    young masculine black. He’d just gotten out of prison
    for a drug related felony, and he was on parole for at
    least another two years. But I was taken by his self-
    assurance and his drive to want to put his past behind
    him.

    The three of us talked for an hour and a half in my
    office that morning, and I literally melted every time
    my light blue eyes met his deep dark brown eyes.
    Finally I pulled out my card to give to each of them.

    After the two of them left, I ran to the ladies room to
    see if what I’d thought had happened to me was real. My
    panties were totally, thoroughly soaked–almost too wet
    to wear any longer. I coated the inside with toilet
    paper and went back to my desk. I kept thinking that I
    had to be walking funny, and my walk would give my
    strange discomfort with what just happened away to my
    co-workers.

    A little while later, my phone rang. It was him! He
    started by saying that he’d called to thank me. I told
    him he was welcome, and that it was all part of my job.
    He asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink with him
    sometime, and I told Tyron that I couldn’t as long as
    he was on my caseload–that if I did, I’d lose my job.

    “If I wasn’t on your caseload, would you go out with
    me?”

    I didn’t even think before I answered. “Yes, I would,”
    I told him.

    “I’m glad. Well, the reason I called is I need to set
    up an appointment with the state employment service as
    soon as possible,” he said. “Is there any possibility
    that the agency could provide transportation?”

    I told him that we did that all the time. He just had
    to set up a time when he wanted to go, and we’d try to
    accommodate him. Ty asked me if I’d be the one to drive
    him, and I said I’d be happy to.

    Two days later, I picked Tyron up in one of the
    agency’s transport vans. He brought a small duffel bag,
    something like an airport flight bag, which he tossed
    it in the back of the van. I asked him what the bag was
    for, and he said we needed to go to the Salvation Army
    store and pick up a few items first.

    I was puzzled, but I drove him there. He told me that
    he wanted to pick out a number of items which all
    together might cost between five and ten dollars, and
    would either the agency or I pay for it? I told him
    that was done all the time; we just needed to keep the
    receipt for agency records.

    We walked through the thrift store together for about
    fifteen minutes while Tyron collected a couple of
    pillows, a comforter, a blanket and few other odds and
    ends. I figured that he must have needed extra
    bedclothes for home, now that he’d moved back in with
    his mother. I stayed very close to him as we roamed the
    store.

    I was surprised at how comfortable I felt strolling
    next to him. Every now and then he’d take hold of my
    arm and pull me over to see one thing or another as if
    he were getting my opinion. Eventually I paid for the
    articles out of my own money, kept the receipt for
    reimbursement, and told him that it would be best for
    us to go on to the employment service.

    He laughed. “We’re not gonna have time for that,” he
    replied. “Not today.”

    I looked at him. “Why not?”

    “Because I need time to line the floor of this van with
    these blankets and comforters. I don’t want your back
    hurt by that hard surface on the van bed.”

    “My back?”

    “Your back, your butt, your thighs–get the picture?”

    Like a fool, I shook my head.

    He looked at me and smiled that big wide lipped smile
    of his. “Did you think I wouldn’t see what’s been
    happening with you, Lynda? Tell me, did you ever fuck a
    black man before?”

    I looked at him as if he’d said some word in an alien
    language. “Fuck?”

    He shook his head and smiled again. “Lock up the van.”

    I made sure all the doors were locked, and by the time
    I turned back toward the transport area, he had it all
    prepared. The blankets were arranged, the pillows were
    set down, and Ty had his shirt wide open, so that his
    beautiful mahogany colored chest was bared directly at
    me.

    “We’re wasting time,” he said. “Take off that dress.”

    “But I–” I started.

    “Take your clothes off!” he demanded. “Right now! I
    don’t plan on telling you again.”

    That was it. For some unknown reason, I immediately did
    exactly as I was told. No, wait. I guess I couldn’t
    really say the reason was unknown. I’d been enthralled
    with his presence all morning. His bearing, his voice,
    even his odor�in fact, all of Tyron’s essence had been
    calling out to me physically; so I began to squirm out
    of my dress. It didn’t take long for me to finish
    disrobing. I knew I wanted Tyron.

    In about three minutes, I found myself on my back with
    my legs spread, Ty’s body carefully jackknifed between
    my thighs, and a massive black dick wonderfully jammed
    straight up my pussy. This young African American man
    was the first man I’d had besides my husband in twenty
    years. For the first time in my life, I understood the
    real magic of what a large black cock could do to a
    woman. After a year or so in prison, Tyron was more
    than ready for a woman as pliant and accommodating as I
    was–and as white as I was.

    “Any black man stuck in stir dreams of fucking a
    married white pussy like yours, Lynda,” he said.

    I gulped back a nervous moan, and murmured. “Really?”

    “See, deep inside we black men know that married white
    women want to get…” Ty paused and took a deep breath.
    “Get a real taste of what they can’t…Unghhh!” He
    grunted and came immediately. I suddenly felt
    everything go incredibly wet within me.

    I felt a bit disappointed, and I sighed out loud. “Oh�”

    “What’s the matter with you?” he asked, as he lifted
    himself up off my belly to look me in the eyes.

    “I was kind of hoping we’d have… a little more time
    before you came.”

    “Time!” Tyron chuckled. “Do you see me pulling out? I
    ain’t even got started yet.”

    With that said, Ty began to thrust in and out of me
    once again. He felt so dominant, so totally in charge
    that I just went with the flow of all that energy
    between us. Nothing could come between us, I thought.
    Suddenly, I realized that his plans had caught me
    totally off guard. There really was nothing between us.
    Ty hadn’t bothered to use a condom, and each time I’d
    let him fill my cunt with his living sperm, there
    wasn’t any protection.

    “Oh my God, Ty! You didn’t use a condom.”

    “Now why would I deprive myself of the sensation of
    your soft, lily white cunt by using a condom?”

    “But something might happen.”

    “Something did happen,” he replied. “And it’s gonna
    happen again. Isn’t it?”

    I stayed silent. I was still penned down against the
    van bed with a very strong, masculine black presence
    both perched on top of my body and shoved deep inside
    my loins. Tyron had me totally under his power
    physically — and even though I was loathe to admit it,
    he had me emotionally under control as well.

    My beloved ex-convict got his strength back three more
    times that morning. That’s four times the amount of
    semen I’d ever tried to keep in my pussy for my entire
    married life.

    I’d signed out the van for only two hours, but I was
    late getting it back to the agency that day. Tyron put
    all the blankets and pillows into his duffel which he
    took with him when I dropped him off. I had to stop at
    a fast food restaurant, and stuff toilet paper up my
    cunt to keep my pantyhose and skirt from getting any
    messier than they already were.

    That night I went home and dreamed about how wonderful
    it was feeling that huge black cock plunging in and out
    of my loins, and how I should have been worried that he
    hadn’t thought to bring along a condom. My husband had
    a vasectomy a while back; so, needless to say, I hadn’t
    even bothered to stay on the pill for over two years. I
    had every right to be worried, but I wasn’t. I didn’t
    know why back then.

    I couldn’t help myself. As his caseworker, I called
    Tyron and left messages for him to check in with me as
    soon as possible. I didn’t hear from him for over a
    week. A whole week! Finally some nine days later Tyron
    called me again about arranging transportation and told
    me to set it up immediately. I spent that entire
    afternoon naked in the back of an agency van indulging
    in the hardness of his marvelous black cock invading
    the sanctity of my white pussy again and again. Once
    again we were using no protection whatsoever. I started
    to say something.

    “I told you once before that many of the brothers in
    prison dream of fucking married white pussy when they
    finally get out,” he repeated to me like an impatient
    teacher. “And deep inside we both know that a woman
    like you wants a taste of the taboo, am I right?”

    I gasped. “Oh, yes,” I answered, just as my body began
    to sing a climactic tribute to the motion of his dark
    probing cock. “Ooooo, yessss.”

    “All right then,” he muttered. “I don’t want to hear
    any more shit about condoms or diaphragms or the pill,
    you got that?”

    For some reason I was eager to say it. “Yes,” I
    answered. “I understand.”

    “All right.” Tyron grinned. He flooded my cunt with
    another torrent of liquid heat, and gasped. “All
    right!”

    Panting, I lay naked on my back on top of a cheap
    Salvation Army comforter under a black man whose
    marvelous spurting dick was buried deep inside my body.

    Later, as we both rested, he pulled a card from his
    pants pocket. “Now two weeks from tomorrow night you
    are going to meet me at this address, sometime between
    5:30 and 6:00 PM.”

    “Two weeks?” I whined. “I’ll see you before then,
    right?”

    “You will not see me, call me or try to get a hold of
    me in any way until this time,” he said. “Do you
    understand me?”

    I said I did, although I really didn’t. Satisfied by my
    answer, Ty positioned his mahogany skinned knees in
    order to part my white thighs once again. In moments he
    was thrusting his huge cock deep inside of me, slowly
    building to an incredible climax. Growling out loud,
    his body cut loose and emptied a massive load of pure
    African American semen directly into my unprotected
    pussy. Thrilled, I squealed under his dominant grasp.

    “That’s better.” Tyron panted over me as if he’d just
    finished a hundred yard dash. “Much better.”

    “Do it again,” I pleaded.

    “What do you say, young lady?”

    “Please?” I whispered.

    Once again I got the van back late.

    Tyron had stayed away from me for the full two weeks he
    stated on that Tuesday afternoon, during which I’d
    undergone the disappointing surprise of getting my
    period the very next day. I can’t begin to tell you how
    anxious, how relieved I was about the period, and then
    how excited I was to get a message from Ty on my answer
    phone reminding me about my appointment that Wednesday
    evening.

    I informed my husband that I was going out with some of
    my co-workers that Wednesday night, and I drove my car
    to the address Ty gave me. It was a sports complex on
    the edge of the inner city. He was waiting in the
    parking lot for me.

    “Leave your car here, Lynda,” he said. “It’ll be safe
    here. We’re riding with Quiller and Leon.”

    This was an unexpected surprise. Who were these men, I
    wondered. But I didn’t ask him, I just followed him
    into Leon’s burgundy Lincoln and sat in back between
    Tyron and Quiller. I soon discovered that Quiller, a
    huge black man over three hundred pounds–a lot of it
    muscle, some of it big gut and love handles, had met Ty
    in prison. While Leon, who was thin and sinewy, had run
    drugs with Tyron on the street before he went to
    prison. They were all very candid about what their past
    relationships had been.

    “Aren’t you breaking probation hanging with these men?”
    I whispered.

    “Doesn’t matter any more,” he answered. “The only thing
    that matters now is how Quiller and Leon take to you.”

    “I don’t understand,” I said hesitantly.

    “Yes, you do, Lynda,” Tyron said slipping his strong
    black hand up under my blouse. “You told me how your
    husband had a vasectomy after your third child. I know
    you haven’t been on the pill for ages, and I was with
    you the day before your last period started over two
    weeks ago today. I could smell that trace of blood at
    your pussy.”

    Omigod! He said it so matter-of-factly that my mouth
    probably dropped wide open.

    “You’re halfway to a real understanding about what life
    as a black cock slut is about. Now the three of us are
    going to take you the rest of the way.”

    “What rest of the way?” I asked. My hands were
    trembling as I reached out to touch him.

    All three men laughed.

    “How did you feel the day you got your period?” Ty
    asked.

    “Lousy. Grumpy. Out of sorts,” I answered. “You know–
    period stuff.”

    “Tell me the truth, Lynda. How did you feel when your
    period came after you went through a couple of weeks of
    unprotected sex with me?”

    “Stop it,” I said.

    “No, woman,” Tyron grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard.
    He didn’t hurt me, but I knew he could. “You tell me
    everything. Right now!”

    I trembled in his grasp. “I–I was–I was…
    disappointed.”

    “Bee-Cee-Ess!” Leon said, and the other two men
    laughed.

    “What?” I asked.

    “Black cock slut.” Quiller broke into a huge grin. I
    looked at him and realized that he had the oversized
    lips of a typical black man, but his top lip was much
    larger than his lower lip. It wasn’t an ugly sight by
    any means, just a little disconcerting at first. “You
    gonna discover you’ll do anything to get it–to keep
    gettin’ it.”

    “Admit it, Lynda,” Tyron added. “Inwardly you wanted to
    be pregnant.”

    “That’s not true.” I remember shaking my head no as a
    matter of form. Yet, each of my three companions sensed
    that I didn’t really mean what I’d said.

    “Listen, whore, we can turn this car around right now,
    and take you back to your car,” Leon stated. “Or you
    can cum with the three of us tonight and go home after
    it’s all over and done with–it’s your choice.”

    I stared at the face in the rear view mirror for a
    moment. Finally, his eyes caught mine. Then I spoke
    very softly. “I want to go with you.”

    “There’s just one thing, slut,” Quiller said. “We all
    know it’s been exactly two weeks since your last
    period. When we get to my place, all three of us are
    planning to fuck you–all at once and one at a time.
    There ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ condoms, no fuckin’
    spermicide foam–no nothing. You understand that?”

    I nodded. “Yes,” I answered in my meekest voice. “I
    understand.”

    “Good.” Tyron said. “We’re gonna make this one special
    night.”

    That night began the first of several weeks’ worth of
    notable changes in my life. That night I willingly
    accompanied three horny-as-hell black studs to
    Quiller’s small one-bedroom inner city apartment in a
    desperately foolish desire to be gang fucked by three
    men recently released from prison. Three men, all of
    them demanding to be totally dominant over my little
    white married ass, had a way of taking what should have
    occurred in less than sixty minutes and stretching that
    time out for well over six hours.

    For my sake, Tyron went first. Apparently he made the
    others understand that I needed the familiar warmth and
    length of his cock before anything new could happen.
    Surprisingly, he was quite matter-of-fact about his
    lovemaking, quickly spraying a flask full of sperm deep
    inside of me in a matter of four or five minutes. I was
    a bit disappointed. I didn’t want to let him go.

    The next man in line was Quiller. I don’t mind telling
    you that since he weighed well over three hundred
    pounds, I was afraid to have this man climb on top of
    me. But I’d under-estimated myself. Not only could I
    handle his body weight, I discovered that when his dick
    parted the soft tissue of my labia, I welcomed his
    strong erected presence wholeheartedly.

    Quiller may have been an extra large man, but he was an
    excellent fuck. He too took less than five minutes to
    climax. However, when Quiller withdrew, he asked for a
    kiss. Happily, I gave him that kiss, enjoying every
    moment of it. Afterwards, I found my loins were
    swimming in sticky white semen.

    Leon was harder. Not necessarily in the dick, just in
    the way he fucked me, as if I were some full-sized
    inflatable doll and not a real woman. He didn’t come as
    quickly as the other two had. I wasn’t that lucky.

    Since that time I’ve learned that men, like any warm
    blooded male animals, respond to mating in a uniquely
    competitive way–a way that was established long ago in
    our mammalian past. When a male watches another male
    mate with a female he desires, he is immediately ready
    to move into her and try to impregnate her himself once
    again. With three black men taking turns fucking me,
    every time one of them finished cumming in me, either
    of the other two were more than ready to take his
    place.

    By the end of that night some six hours later, I was
    sore, and I was tired. I’d engaged time and again in
    pure unprotected sex with three eager young men, each
    one totally intent upon using his black dick to knock
    me up. Strangely enough, I was thrilled by everything
    that happened to me that night.

    Over the next six days, I missed a lot of work. I’d
    leave the house, pull out my cellular phone and call in
    sick to work for a few hours or for the whole day.
    Depending on the day, I might meet all three men at the
    same time. However, Quiller was very much a morning
    man.

    Tyron, of course, peaked in the afternoon, while Leon
    preferred the evening. Sometimes I’d fuck all three men
    in the same day, but at totally different times. I
    remember looking deeply into each man’s dark eyes as he
    came into me, and I imagined a very specific moment in
    time in which each and every one of my black lovers
    might have impregnated me.

    After only three weeks, I purchased a home pregnancy
    test, and, as soon I tested positive, I set up an
    urgent appointment with my doctor.

    My husband was furious when he found out I was
    pregnant. He demanded to know who the father was. I
    laughed and asked Ray if he wanted me to bring the
    fathers to our home and introduce him to them.

    “Fathers?” Ray gasped. “Fathers! More than one?”

    I laughed again. “More than one.”

    “How many?”

    “Three. You might say I’ve been successfully gang
    bred.”

    “Oh, shit! Oh, shit,” he continued to repeat. “Oh,
    shit!”

    Wait until he heard the good part, I thought. But I
    didn’t say anything. I needed to make some phone calls
    first.

    On the day that I scheduled our meeting, I descended
    the staircase of our home totally nude. I’d been
    showering, and all I carried down stairs was my bath
    towel. My husband rushed into the living room to close
    the front drapes, so the neighbors wouldn’t see me. But
    I told him: “You might as well leave them open. We’re
    having company.”

    “Company?” he said. “Who?”

    “My baby’s fathers,” I said continuing to dry my hair.

    “I need a drink.” Ray went into the kitchen. I knew
    he’d shit when he discovered all the malt liquor I’d
    purchased and stashed into the refrigerator. His voice
    came crying out of the kitchen. “What the hell is this
    stuff doing here?”

    If Ray had been a touch more astute, he’d have figured
    it out from the clues I left him. But he missed the
    clues entirely.

    Suddenly a sharp rap at the front door startled us.

    “What the hell, Lynda,” he said. “Somebody’s at the
    door. You go put some clothes on.”

    I could hear him racing out of the kitchen, but by the
    time Ray got to the living room, he was too late. I
    stood naked at the front entrance to our home with the
    door flung wide open so that anybody in the
    neighborhood could see everything there was to see. But
    far more important, three hard looking African American
    men casually sauntered into our house, each one giving
    me a long kiss or a kiss and a groping feel on my naked
    body as each man stepped inside. Each of the three men
    cordially made room for the next man as they reached
    out for my naked flesh and clung possessively to me.

    “Wh-what is this?” Ray asked timidly.

    Tyron was the last man through the door. He wrapped his
    long arms around my exposed body and gave a tug at my
    buttocks cheeks.

    “These men are my baby’s fathers, Ray,” I replied,
    still hanging onto each man as they came in. Allowing
    each black man the right to fondle me in return, I
    introduced each man to Ray. “All of them have given me
    the best fuckings I’ve ever had in my life.”

    Carefully, deliberately, Tyron, Quiller and Leon
    grabbed Ray and tied my husband to his easy chair. They
    told him that he was going to be lucky enough to
    witness a total re-enactment of how I’d gotten
    pregnant. Ray, who was nearing fifty years of age,
    suffered through a four hour marathon of his white
    wife, me, bathing in the potent semen of three healthy
    young black men less than half his age. Leon, the
    oldest was hardly in his late twenties. Quiller was
    older than Tyron by a year or so. Shit, at forty-one, I
    was nearly twice the age of my baby’s fathers.

    Ray’s resentment over my pregnancy and my choice of
    fathers built up over the next few days. When I went
    out at night, his jealousy became a slow burning rage.
    I was forced out of my home a few days later.

    Quiller let me stay at his place for a little while,
    but even though I helped out with money, I also paid
    for my rent with sex. Still he soon tired of having me
    underfoot and growing more and more pregnant all the
    damn time; so, eventually, he kicked me out too, and I
    had to find my own place.

    My child, Kierra, a name meaning small dark one, was
    born last December. Various members of my family, Ray’s
    family, and a few of my friends and coworkers came to
    visit me and to gawk at my baby. A few of them may have
    understood, but most of them were appalled. She’s a
    beautiful little half black baby girl with skin the
    color of oak and features which look remarkably like
    her father’s. Other people have often commented on how
    my baby girl’s top lip seems significantly larger than
    her lower lip.

    The divorce proceedings had begun already, and you can
    imagine how upset Ray was to learn that according the
    laws of our home state, he was responsible for child
    support for the child which was conceived during our
    marriage, even though the baby wasn’t really his.

    But now, as I said, my baby and I share an apartment in
    the college town where my son lives. Ray’s child
    support keeps a roof over our head, and I’ve been able
    to make ends meet. God! The black students here on
    campus are gorgeous.

    Every time I roll my little girl out in a stroller or
    strap Kierra onto a mommy back pack, I attract the
    attention of some of the sexiest young black studs
    you’ve ever seen. Somehow one look at my tiny dark-
    skinned Kierra and these young men correctly sniff out
    the fact that Mommy’s a true slut for black cock. Some
    of the bolder males have learned it first hand.

    But I knew I had to go back to work. I’ve always been a
    social worker at heart; so lately, I’ve found part time
    employment working actively with paroled prisoners in a
    halfway house facility. The money’s not all that great,
    but the benefits are terrific.

    Even though it looks like my old life fell apart when I
    became a slut for black cock, I wouldn’t trade my new
    life for anything.

    END

    Write a comment