Freyja woke up to the sound of the apartment door closing with a quiet click, followed by the sounds of voices, low and warm, muffled through the walls. Quiet footsteps approached down the hallway, and soon the other bedroom's door was closed.
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the darkness, sluggish with sleep. Outside the window, the first rays of sunlight filtered through, signaling the beginning of a new day. As Freyja slowly sat up, her body protested every movement, a painful reminder of the past night's events. The curtains were drawn, casting long strips of shadows across the disheveled bed. She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the black dildo on the sheets, the bottle of lube, and the laptop on the floor below. She cursed to herself, opening the computer to make sure it still worked. Then the screen loaded, revealing the OnlyFans profile and the damning messages they had sent back and forth last night. Her eyes went wide as she saw the pictures of Ogun, and she slammed the laptop shut again, shoving it on her bedside table.
Yesterday, she had sex with that attractive African American gymmate, and afterwards he offered her to create a shared OnlyFans profile, which would be the perfect solution to her many financial problems... or a way to permanently ruin her miserable life.
Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she checked the time. It wasn't even 7:30 yet. Hesitating for a minute, she stared at the screen until she was certain she couldn't hear footsteps outside. She quietly pushed herself out of bed, her bare feet hitting the fuzzy carpet.
Freyja crept toward the bedroom door, moving carefully to avoid the creaky spots on the floor. She opened it ever so slightly, just enough for her to take a look up and down the hallway. The low, steady moans of pleasure could be heard from Alice's bedroom. She listened carefully, her curiosity getting the better of her. The unmistakable sounds of sexual intercourse continued.
"That's it... Take it all." A male voice cut through the thin walls. "Yeah, you like that, huh?"
"Oh... fuck yeah!" Alice's voice echoed, filled with uninhibited delight, "Yes! Oh damn... this dick is so good!"
The rhythmic creaking of their bed kept time with the sharp, slapping sounds. Her body remained tense as she shut the door softly before finally exhaling. Wide awake, Freyja sat down in her bed. She could feel the familiar warmth spreading between her legs. Maybe she just needed a little release, too. Freyja grabbed her laptop, her movements slow and heavy, and set it up on her pillow. Sighing, she pressed play on a random Ogun's video. The room was dimly lit with the only light source being the little sunshine that poked through the blinds and her computer screen.
The scene looked familiar. Regina's gym. The weight bench, a Latina girl was tied to it. And a good-looking black guy. Ogun. He unzipped his shorts and Freyja got a good look at his thick, black cock. He drove it into her savagely, humping her while she sobbed and begged. Eventually, he came filling her up with cum... and again before he finally pulled out, releasing a load of spunk from her pussy.
Why did wachting that bastard fucking make her feel so good? Ogun slotted in perfectly with her perverted delusions. It wasn't always like this. Her porn intake had been the typical vanilla stuff, solo girls playing with themselves, until one fateful day, an improperly-tagged compilation of videos slipped past her blocklist... clips of blonde teenagers getting bred by strong black men. Normally, she would have just switched off, but something compelled her to keep watching. Seeing those innocent pale-skinned whores giving into their primal urges... it turned her on.
The dumb sexual interactions she'd had with boys her age amounted to something very lackluster. Ogun, on the other hand, had led her with self-confidence and mastery that could only be achieved from years of guiding women into orgasms. Combine that with the sheer size of him --not just his cock, but his entire body-- she had discovered herself losing her awareness and totally accepting his dark dominance.
As the video played on, a strange feeling surged through her body. Freyja didn't waste any time, doing her best to drive his fingers deeper into her needy cunt. Her hands were moving on their own, stroking herself as fast as she could. She couldn't stop herself. After only a few seconds, she thrashed against the sheets and climaxed, rendering her unable to stand up from her bed.
A buzzing brought her out of her reverie. The college student reached for her cell phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through the missed calls. Her mother's name flashed at the top, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she answered.
"Freyja, where have you been? I've been so worried."
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The weight of what had just happened sat heavy on her chest. Her mother's voice grew anxious, "Freyja? Are you there?"
"Yes, Mom. Just wake up now. Sorry."
Her mother's voice softened, a maternal warmth seeping through the receiver. "Are you alright?"
Freyja swallowed hard, her throat raw and dry. "Yesterday I was really tired when I arrived from the gym." She tried to keep her voice steady, but there was a slight tremor to it that she couldn't quite control.
Her mother's concern was evident in her tone. "Are you sure, Freyja? You sound a bit... off. Is everything okay there? Do you need us to send money for anything?"
"No, everything is ok. I just need to have a coffee and take a shower."
Freyja's mother paused, her silence heavy with unspoken worry. "Alright. But please, if you need anything, anything at all, you call us. We're here for you, you know that." Her words were laced with a mother's intuition, a subtle undercurrent of concern that Freyja can't quite ignore.
She nodded even though her mother couldn't see it. "I know, Mom." She leaned against the headboard, adjusting the phone against her face. "How's going on? You're up very, very early."
She chuckled, the sound low and comforting. "Had some trouble sleeping last night..."
"Me too." Freyja sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
Her mother was quiet on the line for a moment. Freyja glanced at a framed picture next to her bed. A little girl stood with a tall, beautiful woman in matching flowery yellow dresses.
"The neighborhood is crowded with African immigrants. Damn music... so loud they kept me awake. How are you feeling in Detroit?"
"Mmm...I'm alright, managing. I'll call you later, I promise." Freyja ended the call, her hands shaking. "I love you, Mom."
Packing her life into two suitcases and dragging them thousands of miles away had been an emotional whirlwind. Two years later, it was the end of the month, and she didn't even know if she still had money on her card. But she knew how hard it was for her parents to earn money, and she didn't want to be a burden.
She then exhaled, slowly, looking at her dormitory. The room felt claustrophobic now, the walls closing in around her. Freyja stood up on unsteady legs, her body protesting every movement. The bathroom door beckoned, a sanctuary where she could wash away the last evidences of her past transgressions. As the hot water cascaded over her body, she winced at the stinging pain in her sex. Then she wrapped a towel around her body, wincing as the terry cloth grazed her sore muscles. She applied a light layer of makeup carefully to conceal the bruises on her neck and breasts. Her hand trembled slightly as she applied lipstick, the color a stark contrast to her pale complexion. The mirror finally reflected a young, attractive blonde who was trying to convince the world that she was okay.
Freyja was 5'7", she had hazel eyes, a reddish-golden waterfall of hair now wet and her body rivaled that of many of the porn stars she had seen. But she was never a very social person. Her academics were flawless. She kept to herself, sat in the corner of the classroom, spent her free time listening to rap music on her iPod, and used to hide her voluptuous body under baggy jeans and hooded sweatshirts with artwork from her favorite Hip Hop artists.
Wrapping the towel around herself, she left the bathroom and headed to her bedroom. The towel hugged her curves, accentuating the fullness of her figure. Once in her room, she removed the towel and flopped onto her bed, her heavy weight causing the bed to shake and creak. Then, she started to dress.
Her shared home was a small two-room apartment, minimally furnished. Bright sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the joint kitchen and dining room area. Alice and her new lover were still in her room -- she didn't know whether they were awake and 'busy' or just sleeping. Either way, she didn't want to disturb them. What she did want to do was have a nice breakfast ready for them when they finally emerged, so she made some omelets and put on the coffee.
"Good morning," said a very sexy, deep, velvety, yet raspy voice from behind her, and Freyja looked over her shoulder.
"Coffee's ready. You're having omelets. Orange juice in the fridge if you want," Freyja said.
Alice Tanaka, her flatmate, greeted her with a casual hug before she grabbed the cup and took a long sip. She was a half-Asian, half-white girl with a medium build and a toned body under an oversized sleep shirt. Her black hair was cut in a sleek bob that framed her oval-shaped face. Even with messy hair, her roommate was stunning. Her features seemed to be chiseled in alabaster, lean, and regal, symmetrically and compellingly.
"Thank you, Frey. This is Buddy."
"Bobby," he corrected her. Alice's new, casual lover entered the kitchen. "Good to meet you, Freyja." He grinned widely, moving over and offering his hand.
She took it after a moment. "Likewise." She murmured, her Norwegian accent smooth and low.
Bobby was a big black man with a chiseled frame and a shaved head. His boxers did a poor job of hiding the bulge straining against the fabric. He didn't wear anything else.
Their campus was in a mostly white area of Midtown, where Wayne State University was based. The streets were full of beautiful female students, the cream of America's white middle class, with tough-looking black men, obviously not fellow students due to their gangsta attire. Being in Detroit, it was natural that there was plenty of 'cultural exchange ' between the white female students and the thousands of African American men living around. In the evenings, the bars would be full of big, arrogant black studs chatting up the hot college girls and intimidating their male mates.
All of her life, the idea was instilled into Alice by her parents that she needed to marry within her kind, and thus had a string of Asian boyfriends, all of whom failed to satisfy her. They were all meek and skinny and small where it counted. Any man who could last a few rounds with her in a sparring session had to be man enough to tame her.
Freyja sat in a corner of the table, her hands fidgeting with her sweatshirt sleeves. While the low murmur of conversation and the smell of coffee put her somewhat at ease, the scene seemed very... domestic. She tried not to dwell on what had happened last night too much. Right now, she just wanted things to seem... normal.
"We'll clean up the dishes," said Alice. "And relax."
