Author's note: This is an interracial porn story. There's a plot, but not an overly complex one. If you aren't a fan of white girl/black guy(s), then it may be a good idea if you read something else, maybe in a different category.
This story takes place right as my other story, Ashley's Story, was ending (in the month of May).
All characters are over 18, fictional, and were written for entertainment purposes.
Gisele's Story
Chapter 1
It was done. I was finished. College was over! I was so happy to graduate, to be done with all the studying, work, and stress. I was sitting next to Ian on the couch, snuggling tightly, with a man I loved - or thought I loved. A man I wished loved me in return, but sadly, I felt he didn't and never would. It was bittersweet too. Ian was leaving for the summer to work on an oil rig right around the time I would start my internship.
"Elite Magazine eh?" he asked.
"Yep. This internship could turn into a job there," I said, hoping for the best with the Atlanta-based magazine publisher.
Ian put his arm around me, "Good. This sounds like a great opportunity for you."
"Yeah, I know," I replied, feeling fortunate to land this internship, wanting to prove my worth.
"Maybe you'll meet a nice guy," he said. I hated when he suggested that. I only wanted him, but was too afraid to tell him. I've wanted him since I began liking boys.
I shrugged, "Maybe." I sat up, looking in his blue eyes, short blonde hair. "What about you? You going meet anyone?"
"Maybe," He shrugged. "Maybe for the summer. I'm sure New Orleans has a nice selection of ladies," he chuckled. He was leaving for New Orleans in a few days to work on the oil rig in the Gulf - mainly checking to see if things were up to code and there'd be no more mistakes and oil spills.
"You could have any woman you want," I told him.
"Ha, yeah right. Who knows," He pulled me in for another hug. "Do enjoy your summer and internship while I'm gone. If you land a job there, you're more than welcome to keep living here. You'd save money too."
"I'd love that. I really appreciate you letting me stay here while I was in school. It's helped a lot. My dad is thankful too," I told him.
"Glad to help! Now, let's head out to dinner to celebrate," Ian stood, extending his hand to me.
As much as I wanted a lovely dinner-date, ending with a night of love making to the man I loved, I knew it wouldn't happen - it would never happen with Ian. I pushed my sadness aside and enjoyed every second with him before he left
*****
A week before Ian left, I was getting a few groceries. At the store, on the isle containing magazines, I picked up the newest issue of Elite Magazine. I've seen one before, I heavily researched the website, I was familiar.
I flipped through it and sure enough, each and every article, whether they were about cars, music, movies, even the advertisements, had a black male model posing with a white woman. I thought it was a coincidence. I got to the fitness section of the magazine. Hugely muscular black males were in each photo of the article - with them a toned, sexy, smiling white woman. Her hand would be on his six pack abs, or she'd be kneeling in front of him, or his hand would be on her fairly large and muscular butt. I shook my head, shrugging, putting the magazine back on the rack to continue my grocery shopping.
That night, after making dinner for Ian, like I did every night he was home, I mentioned looking through a copy of the magazine at the store; joking I might be the only white girl there.
"Hope I don't come across too dorky," I joked.
"Ha! They may get you to pose in the magazine. Or better yet, meet a nice black man and date him. I'm sure your father would hate that!" Ian joked.
He was right, my dad would hate it if I was dating a black man. But there was one thing my father would hate even more.
"Shut up!" I playfully said, swatting at his shoulder. I grabbed the dishes, cleaning them like usual.
We spent the next few days together, just hanging out, I lost count of how many times I wanted to grab and kiss him.
Dropping him off at the airport, I tearfully said goodbye. He said he'd let me know when he landed.
Arriving at his home, I called my mother, saying hello, cleaned things up a bit, and picked out some clothes for the start of my internship the next day.
Stepping out of the shower the next morning, I let the towel drop, passing in front of the mirror. I stopped myself, doing a double take at my naked body. I was 5'9", a fairly athletic looking hourglass figure, long blonde hair. I grabbed my decent sized breasts, they weren't super huge, but were certainly a handful. Turning around I looked at my ass, "Not bad," I thought.
The image of a dark skin hand resting at the rise of my butt cheeks flashed in the mirror. It was similar to how some of the women posed in the magazine I looked through. I giggled and shook my head, while changing into my modest, work-appropriate dress.
Chapter 2
I was greeted that morning by two women: a tall blonde, maybe late 30s named Devin, and an even taller Latina woman named Fernanda. Both women were wearing sexy, tight cocktail dresses, showing off their legs, their curves, their cleavage - these were dresses I'd expect to see women wear at a nightclub, not to a workplace.
Both women were very polite. Fernanda seemed friendlier of the two, smiling more, not as serious and as down-to-business like Devin was.
They led me through the various offices and cubicles to a small conference room. Looking around I noticed the employees were all women. I found it curious that they were all white as well. I guess I wasn't going to be the only one there.
Fernanda, most likely of Latin American decent, was the only non-white woman there. I also discovered I was very overdressed! Of all the employees I saw on my way to the conference room, they were all wearing similar short dresses.
We walked by a small photo studio. I saw two blonde women with very large, muscular butts, wearing thongs, with a black man kneeling in between them. He was grinning smugly at the camera, his hands on each of their ass cheeks, just barely pulling them apart. A petite red head photographer was in front of the models a few feet away, taking their pictures.
"Have a seat," Devin smiled, gesturing to the conference table. I sat across from her and Fernanda.
