Chapter 2 - Black Meat
White guys are kind of clueless. Okay, maybe that's not fair. Preoccupied maybe? I mean it may seem a little stereotypical for me to say so, but when it comes to white guys versus black guys the difference in perception is like night and day. That wasn't intended to be a pun, but I'll take it.
When I was eighteen, I went to a party at my girlfriend's house. We were there for a birthday bash and sleepover. What it turned out to be was a cum dripping Black Cock frenzy with me at it's center. I can still feel my toes scrunching in the carpet as my friends monster black dad took my asshole and gutted me with his gigantic black fuck-hammer. He tore into me, splitting my asshole and pussy wide and leaving me a whimpering whore, utterly broken for anything but big beautiful black bull-cock from that day forth.
I wasn't the only girl at the party who had her world changed forever on the altar of black cock. No little white pussy or ass was spared, and by the time it came to an end the next day we all left in a state of mind altered awe at what had become of us.
I think we all thought it would get out right away. Someone would say something, or our parents would realise what had been done to us. I for one was certain my father would be able to tell the second I walked through the front door. for the last twenty-four hours I had fucked and sucked like a cum crazed whore in a ghetto crack den, and my asshole was still bubbling with the last remnants of some nameless black God's cum. My panties were long gone; left shredded and tossed aside, and I was bare and sore beneath my skirt as well. I ached and I fucking loved it.
Carrying my shoes in hand as I walked in my house, my father saw me and gave me a passing kiss on the cheek, continuing on his way without so much as a second glance. He asked me if I had had fun. I nodded, but he was already on to his next thing. I had to laugh.
It's not that white men are stupid. Let me clarify. A white man, when he sees a pretty girl, might stop and stare for a moment, having some fantasy about her and then going on with his life. In a father's case the sight of a daughter could inspire some warm and fuzzy feelings about his little angel from childhood that fogs his mind and replaces any obvious contradiction to his fantasy with something he's more comfortable with. My mussed hair, missing makeup, and generally well fucked glow wasn't within his ability to notice. He just saw some cute little pig tailed angel.
A Black Bull, when he sees a sexy girl, becomes focused and primal. He feels this fire burning inside him, fueled by the things he wants to do to her and what he needs to accomplish to make those things a reality. When the focus of his desire is white pussy that predatory nature is somehow multiplied. That's not a racist statement, it's just an observation. Black Bulls love to wreck white girls. Halle-fucking-lujah to that. Not all Black studs are Bulls of course, nor are all white men sheep, but the numbers are pretty heavily in favor of the theory.
My father was utterly oblivious to the fact that his daughter had spent the better part of the last two days being passed from one coal black God-cock to the next, getting slammed deep in my drooling ass and cunt as I stretched my jaw to swallow belly-fulls of thick Bull spunk. Yummy. I'd eaten pussy and other girls drooling assholes, had raunchy anal trains run on me, and been called the kind of filthy names that would have offended me to my core a day before. I was their Fuck Pig. I was a Cumslut Whore. I smiled when I thought of how they groped and fucked me while calling me their Snowbunny Bitch. Fuck! I love big Black Bull Cock. You could say they broke me. I'd say I had evolved.
Over the next few weeks I noticed other girls who had been at the party in passing. We saw one another in the halls at school and smiled, blushing at the dirty secret we shared. At any time one of them could have said something to someone and let the world know what had happened that night. No one did. The usual gossip that girls are so famous for was now our well guarded secret. Bookish girls winked and smiled at preppy prom queens, female athletes and cheerleaders nodded knowingly to passing grunge cuties, and quiet unassuming girls next door like myself were noticed by the most popular girls in school. It must be kind of like when men go to war together; shed the same blood in the same mud and so forth. Our particular mud was creamy, salty-sweet, and spewed from the glistening knobs of Big Black Cock. We were all aching to sign up for another tour of combat.
Now, while white guys seem to be oblivious to the kind of changes that were happening to not just me, but lots of the other girls around me, another thing that seems to set Black Bulls apart is insight. A well fucked little slut moves differently than some innocent virgin. She carries herself in another way, and Black Bull instinct seems to notice that. Either that, or I was putting off some pheromone that's only detectable by larger noses.
Oh stop being like that. Their noses are bigger. It's a fact. Look it up.
My first hint that I had changed on some kind of biological level, and or the word had secretly gotten out about me was when I went into town the following week to pick up some groceries for my mother from our local butcher shop.
Ben the butcher had been our go to guy for prime cuts for as long as I could remember. He was this towering stud with dark chocolate skin and the hint of a beer belly which was offset by a pair of arms that looked like tree trunks. He had a bald head, a big smile with adorable dimples, and he jiggled when he laughed like some kind of sexy ass Black Santa.
The second I entered Ben's shop he noticed me, arching his eyebrow as I came through the door with a jingle of the bell overhead. His huge smile followed, and he picked up a towel to wipe his hands clean as he stepped out from around the counter to greet me.
"If it ain't tiny little Emma Price." He began, hands on hips and flashing me his toothiest grin. "Girl. You best stop growin up, or I'm a gonna start thinkin your to old fo me to pinch those cheeks."
I'm sure I was blushing. Not just was I seeing him in a whole new light because of my recent Black Cock rewiring, but I had never actually noticed his full lips and the way his pretty brown eyes stole glances up and down my legs as he made small talk. He probably looked my mom up and down like that too. If I'm pretty, she's a fucking goddess. More on that in a later chapter.
