Coed's BBC Discovery
Summary:
Coed fucks black guy to pay off boyfriend's debt and....
Note 1:
This is an
April Fool's Day
story, because of the multiple ending choices. Feel free to share which one you like the best.
Note 2:
Thanks to
Tex Beethoven
for editing this story.
I was a senior in college, and I'd just returned home from classes, when I learned some very alarming news.
Ben, my boyfriend of just over two years, and the only guy I'd ever had intercourse with, was in the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey on the table... no glass... which was very unlike him... and he was clearly rattled.
Concerned, I asked, "Ben, what's wrong?"
"I don't even know where to begin," he said with a heavy sigh. Ben was ordinarily an outgoing, vibrant young man, and he was very well off, having made a lot of money by developing a gaming app back when he was twenty.
"How about from the start?" I suggested, trying to lighten the mood, pulling out a chair beside him and sitting down. "What's going on?"
"Honey, I really fucked up," he said, looking like he was about to cry. One thing I loved about him was he didn't hide his feelings like most men did. He wasn't some crybaby or Mommy's boy, but he showed emotion. He cried during sad movies, when his father had passed a few months ago, and when we found a dog on the side of the road that some asshole had left for dead. He tried to save him, and although he wasn't successful, it showed me what kind of man he really was.
"Honey, what did you do?" I asked, a little frightened by his behaviour. "Whatever it is, we can get past it." Having been cheated on in both of the semi-serious relationships I'd been in before Ben (because I wouldn't give up my virginity), I was immediately worried that he too had cheated on me, which I likely couldn't get past.
"For the past few months..." he began, and my heart sank, because instantly I knew... he
had
cheated. I'd given him my virginity and became an insatiable slut for him... I discovered I loved sex... loved sucking dick (which I
had
done with my first two boyfriends, but for them only reluctantly)... and I'd come to love being a little slutty: talking dirty, being called names, taking facials, doing a couple cum walks while we were in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, and even several wild public sex encounters during the week we'd spent at one of the Hedonism Resorts in Jamaica. And I'd done all of that with Ben.
Now I should note that I come from a very religious family. My dad was a church minister, my brother was going into the same field... the wrath of God had always been threatened at me and my siblings for every little thing... which actually made me resent God, instead of drawing me to him... especially because the double gender standard was never more prominent than in our church. (You probably know the drill: the short version is that the only good girls and women are the ones who go along with whatever bullshit their men subject them to.)
So I was a good girl.
And until Ben... I was convinced I would remain virginal until marriage... but after a year of being together, and he'd never pressured me to have sex (by then I was giving him daily blow jobs, often multiple times a day), I decided to give him my virginity.
It was amazing!
Romantic!
Intense!
And it taught me that when my church told me sex is sinful, it was all lies.
No way would God call something so pleasurable a sin.
No way.
"Are you about to confess you cheated on me?" I asked, needing to know right away.
"No, no, no!" he shook his head franticly, and looked into my eyes for the first time since I'd gotten home.
I gave a huge sigh of relief. If it wasn't cheating, then we could get past it. "Thank goodness! That's the one thing I couldn't forgive you for."
He sighed.
Oddly, my words didn't comfort him. "I'm serious," I said, putting my hand on his leg, "whatever it is, we can get through it together."
"I'm broke," he said.
"Broke?" I repeated. That was astonishing news, since we'd lived rather lavishly since I moved in with him. He had a condo on the ocean. He was very well off. I didn't know that when I met him, I'm no good digger, but it had been awfully nice not to be stressed about money, like I'd been all through my freshman year, when I'd worked almost full time while carrying a full load of classes.
So he really had been my knight in shining armour, since I'd been really burning out and thinking seriously about going back home after my freshman year. I couldn't keep up with the rigours of schooling and working to survive.
"Well, it's worse than broke, actually. I'm twenty thousand dollars in debt," he said, again avoiding eye contact.
"That isn't the end of the world," I said. Twenty grand was a lot, don't get me wrong, but with his assets, he could easily get a loan for that much.
"No, it kind of is," he said, exhaling another heavy sigh. I was pretty sure he'd sighed more during the past three minutes than he had during the entire time we'd been together.
"Then sell some of your assets," I suggested. He had at least a few hundred thousand worth of collectables.
"They won't accept money," he said.
"What?" I asked, that not making sense. And who was 'they'?
"I've been gambling lately," he said, looking me in the eye again. "A lot."
"Okay," I said tentatively. He wasn't really addressing the question in my head.
"And these men are very ruthless," he continued.
"And they won't accept your money?" I asked. Usually, no matter how bad people were, they always took money.
"No," he said, as tears began to flow down his face. "I really fucked up."
"Worse than losing lots of money gambling?" I asked, thinking this was really stupid of him, and it explained a few times he'd been out late recently, but money was just money.
"It was a poker game, and I had a perfect hand, a can't lose hand," he said.
"But you still lost?"
"I didn't have enough money to match the raise, and Mr. Big suggested something nefarious," he said, looking so guilty.
I thought to myself,
Mr. Big, really? Do some people call themselves things like that? You couldn't make this shit up.
"What did he suggest?"
Ben sighed.
He looked away from me.
He whispered a single word that shocked me to the core, and at first, I hoped I hadn't heard it right, "You."
"Did you say me?" I asked, after a few seconds.
"I had a can't lose hand," he repeated, looking up at me. "It was a no risk gamble."
"But you lost?"
"Yeah," he sighed.
"How?" I asked, needing to know. We sometimes played penny ante poker with friends, I knew the game. "What was your can't lose hand you bet me on?"
"I had four jacks," he said.
That was a good hand. Not unbeatable, but it had a ridiculously high win percentage.
He sighed. Again.
"What did he have?" I asked.
"A straight flush," he said, sighing yet again.
"Fuck," I sighed; that was some really bad luck. Although it didn't excuse him putting me up as collateral, even though I wasn't completely sure what that even entailed.
"Yeah," he sighed.
There was a long silence. He obviously didn't want to say any more, so somehow it had to be even worse than what he'd already revealed.
Finally, I asked, "if they won't take money, then what exactly does it mean that Mr. Big won me?"
"You don't want to know," he said, his voice sounding totally defeated.
"No, I do. I want to know
exactly
what situation you've landed me in," I said, getting a little annoyed. "I understand slavery is still legal in India, Pakistan, and various other countries. Will I have to move to one of them and be his indentured servant for the rest of my life?"
"No! It's nothing anywhere
nearly
that bad! But it's still bad, and you don't have to do it," he said, again looking into my eyes.
"And if I don't comply with something I never agreed to, then what happens to you?" I asked, still unsure of what this would entail, but I'm not stupid. I was likely going to have to do something sexual with Mr. Big... whoever he was.
"Don't worry about it," he said, again looking away.
"You got me into this, so tell me what's at stake," I demanded. "What will happen to my boyfriend if I refuse to go along with whatever I'm supposed to do." I was finally getting pissed off... the shock and disbelief of his getting me into this whatever-it-was now fading.
"Likely a broken leg or something," he said, "these guys don't play by the rules."
"Then why the fuck were you gambling with them?" I asked, although that no longer mattered.
"I don't know," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"It doesn't matter," I was the one who sighed now. "So what exactly do I have to do to get you out of this?"
"I don't want you to do it," he said.
"Too fucking late for that, isn't it," I said with some spite, standing up. "What do I have to do so they won't maim you?"
"Spend an evening in his house," he whispered, still avoiding eye contact.
"And
fuck
him?" I asked bluntly. "I have to go into a stranger's house and
fuck
the guy?"
"Yeah," he said so sheepishly, he barely seemed like a man.
"So, if I go out and
fuck
some guy who calls himself Mr. Big, your debt is paid?" I asked, repeatedly emphasizing the word 'fuck' out of spite. I still couldn't believe he'd done this!
"Yeah," he said, tears streaming down his face, making me instantly soften.
"And you promise never to gamble again?" I asked.
"Never," he said, looking up at me shamefacedly.
