The following evening Kristy's unwavering compulsion to see Foley again boiled over. Her young nineteen-year old body was nearly shuddering. She needed to see him again, or more accurately, needed to have that black cock of his. Ever since her friend, Bethany, the voluptuous high school cheerleader, introduced him to her, she had thought of little more than giving up her white flesh to his carnal desires. She loved the things he made her do.
And yet the poor girl was conflicted. One half of her knew their relationship could only lead her down a road of corruption. The other half physically craved being the black janitor's cum bucket. As an upper middle class white girl, she was somehow infatuated having an older black man interested in her. Perhaps it was some of the usual stereotypes about black men's sexual prowess that had occupied her imagination. And then to have Foley fulfill her curiosity beyond anything she thought possible. Whatever it was, her white-bread world had changed.
Fighting the compulsion, she dialed his number ten different times only to hang up, frustrated. Finally, in a cold sweat of desire, allowed the phone ring on the eleventh try. Foley answered in that husky black tone.
"Hi, it's Kristy."
"Dat uptight white bitch from last night?" It made her hot just to hear his crude, uncultured speech. She would never tolerate another lover to refer to her in such demeaning language. But after a short awkward conversation, they agreed on 7PM at his place.
After running some errands, she stopped at the beauty spa for a late appointment. She spent the last of her monthly budget on a new hair style, massage, manicure and pedicure. The new shorter cut made her resemble a sort of blonde Aeon Flux in the movie, only not as dramatic. She also had her long legs and bubble ass waxed. Later at home, she spent over an hour preparing herself for him.
She made-up her blue eyes with dark shadow and liner. Her full lips were accented with ruby lip gloss (which matched her toenails and long fingernails) bringing out the perfect smile of her whitened teeth.
After applying that expensive perfume she saved for special occasions, she strapped on a new lacy black bra from a lingerie shop that flawlessly framed her fleshy orbs. Choosing not to wear panties, the short black skirt she slipped into just barely covered her sweet behind. The black bra could easily be seen through a white button-down short-sleeved blouse she selected from her closet. A pair of glossy red high heels brought out the best of her shapely calves and gave that rounded rump of hers an extra boost. It was only 6:28.
Having checked herself one last time, she nervously lit up a joint to calm the jittery anticipation that had been welling up. Now the clock read 6:39. It was barely a 5 minute drive to Foley's but she couldn't bear waiting any longer. She extinguished the joint and scooted out the door to her car.
Hearing a knock, Foley peeked at his watch: "Hmmm...6:50," he thought to himself, "da bitch early." He let her knock again. On the third knock he rose from his sofa and slowly walked to the door, wearing only his sweat pants. "Hey, girl, come in come in. Yo' is a bit early...I didn't shave yet," he said rubbing his stubble, "but yo' shore lookin' damn hot, damn hot!"
Kristy grinned ear to ear, pleased her appearance pleased him. She walked right up to him, placing her hand at his crotch, her freshly polished nails grabbing at his manhood through the thin material. Being half a head taller, she bowed a bit and whispered in his ear, "Use me." She felt his response--a growing black hard-on.
He smiled, placed a hand on her shoulder with a light touch to suggest she kneel. She cheerfully reacted by stooping down before him on the kitchen floor. He turned and walked to bathroom. "Come, bitch! Crawl yo' way to it if yo' wants it dat bad."
Down on all fours, she crawled to the bathroom where Foley was splashing hot water on his face at a pedestal sink. He rubbed on shaving cream and began to shave his beard. She crawled to his side and reached for his crotch. "No, put yo' hands away," he said sternly. He backed away from the sink a bit and stretched his waistband out. "Stick yo' head in dare, bitch, but don't yo' put yo' slut mouth to it yet. I wants yo' to just breathe it in. Preten' it's dope and take deep hits and hold it in."
Kristy stuffed her head in and did exactly as he instructed. He pulled the waistband up over her head and held it tight to seal her in as best as possible. She hated being so close to the object she craved and not being allowed to suck or kiss or even to see it. The darkest of his pants was a new world, her only world in the moment. She began taking deep "hits" through her nose and his scent began to have an effect on her.
When he finished shaving and wiped his face, he pulled her head out and had her sit on the toilet. He smiled, "I bet yo' enjoyed getting dat buzz, huh slut?"
With his crotch only inches from her mouth, she looked up at him in an obvious state of lustful arousal, "Ah huh," confirming his comment as she slowly licked her lips. Kristy's mouth was partly agape, longing for a taste of what she'd been inhaling.
Foley reached down and began unbuttoning her white blouse. She took it off and sat there in her black lacy bra and shirt. "Time to wash yo' slut face, bitch..." he said, "now tilt yo' head up this way." He pulled down his sweatpants, gathered his huge balls in his hand and began rubbing them in circular motions all over her face. Kristy wanted him to put them in her mouth but he purposely avoided her lips and instead massaged her cheeks nose, eyes, and forehead. She grew even more excited as her pussy twitched. She reached to "scratch the itch" but Foley stopped her.
"Not yet, bitch, don't be getting' ahead a yo'se'f." His cock began swelling and pre-cum made its first appearance, peeking from the pee-hole. "Stand up and move to the side," he ordered. He bent down and wiped the pre-cum drops on the toilet seat. "There yo' go, have at it."
The lust-crazed co-ed knelt down at the toilet without so much as a hint of hesitation. Her pink tongue darted out and captured a dose of his offering; her tongue and lips lapped the spot until the flavor was gone.
There came a knock at the door. Kristy looked up tentatively. "Da door's open, come on in!" yelled Foley from the bathroom. "Hopes yo' like company," he said to her. Foley's friend, Monty the architect, stepped in with Bethany, Kristy's eighteen-year-old friend. They stood in the kitchen and waited for Foley. At 40, Monty dressed immaculately in expensive clothes, having the spoils of his success written all over him.
