This story is a sequel to
Katie Goes Black,
by Ikeman48. I found the premise of the story surprisingly compelling, and was I eager to see the story move in a certain direction. So I decided to write a sequel myself.
* * *
I know,Β I know: this story seems like another reworking of that tired old racist trope: Black men hungry for White pussy. But it ain't like that. I've loved Black women. Those relationships never panned out long-term, for a variety of reasons, but it was never because I had some kind of attitude against Black women, or a hankering for White women. In fact, I've experienced quite a bit of racism from White women, even when they're hitting on me. When some Karen whispers in my ear that she wants my gorilla jungle cock inside her, I run the other way. I don't need that shit. So when Jay, and then Toby, started raving about Katie, this White woman they'd met who wanted to become a "Black cock slut" for us, I was skeptical to say the least. Katie/Karen, what's the difference, right? She may be open to Black men (in more ways than one), but that doesn't necessarily translate into respecting us as equal human beings.
But I had to recognize that good things can come in all kinds of packages, including White packages. When I finally met her I had to admit that Katie was a very good thing indeed, in a very attractive package. We were waiting on the front porch. She got out of Jay's truck, stripped naked, and walked right up to me.
"Gary?" she asked. I nodded.
"I'm Katie. I... sorry, I'm a little nervous."
"You're doing just fine, darling." I answered. "Nothing to be nervous about. You're very welcome here..."
"No, please let me finish, Gary." She took a deep breath. "I've learned that I'm really attracted to Black men. Jay and Toby have been helping me explore that. I want to be a slut for the four of you today. Will you please help me too?"
Before I could answer, she threw her arms around me and kissed me, passionately, like she really meant it. Damn, that kiss ignited something in me. She pulled back, but I needed some more of that. I pulled her back in for a longer kiss. My hands roamed over her naked back and that sweet ass. My cock, which had been semi-hard, was now fully at attention.
"Was that a 'yes', then?" she giggled, cupping my iron-hard cock with her hand, under my jeans.
"Oh Katie! Wow! Yes indeed!" I laughed.
She then greeted Jerome the same way.
Gorgeous smile, cute laugh, warm personality -- what was not to like? And she was being completely direct and honest with us about what she felt and what she wanted, no games. She showed real vulnerability, and trusted us with that. Whatever skepticism I'd had towards her was blown away.
We took her in to the living room, and she immediately started sucking us off. The sex that followed was nothing short of mind-blowing, both the group sex we started with in the living room, and the one-on-one later when she woke up in my bed.
Most other women I've fucked have acted like they were doing me a favor as they passively lay back and let me pleasure them; maybe they'd begrudge me a blowjob. Katie, in contrast, was enthusiastic, energetic and playful in her fucking. She couldn't wait to get her hands and mouth on my cock, and seemed to enjoy sucking me off as much as I enjoyed receiving it. When I slid my cock into her hot, wet snatch and felt her cunt muscles actively milking me -- like her cunt really wanted to get to know my cock and make friends with it -- I knew this was going to be fantastic. Katie was thinner than the women I usually went for, but for a skinny girl she had a nice set of curves to her. I loved the way she giggled and squealed as she bounced on me in cowgirl position. I loved the joy that shone on her pretty face as I thrust up into her. When I flipped her over and pounded her, doggy-style, she moaned and gasped and wailed, coming repeatedly. Damn, this woman loved to fuck! I loved the way her titties bounced around as we fucked, loved the way they felt in my hands, and in my mouth. I loved the way her wide ass rippled and shuddered as I slammed into her from behind.
After I at last came inside her, she lay on top of me, her head resting on my chest, as I stroked her beautiful light-brown hair.
"Please, tell me more about you guys, and how you got together. I've heard a little of it from Jay. But you were the active force in starting the company, right?"
I explained that we knew each other from various jobs we'd worked on. I had found a niche in the Cleveland-area market, an opening for a small, highly skilled team, an ace plumber, carpenter, electrician and painter, who can work closely together. Ace Construction. We take the higher end of the small-scale jobs that the big firms didn't want to bother with, and we make good money doing it. And," I added, "the four of us have encountered enough on-the-job racism, from bosses and coworkers, that we wanted to try being in business for ourselves."
"What kind of racism?"
"Like, co-workers that use the n-word about us when they think we're not listening. Like getting hired at lower grades than we're qualified for, while less qualified White guys get better pay. Like bosses that consistently blame us when some White guys fuck up a job. Like security guards that accuse of stealing our own tools; and they never do that to the White guys. Like being let go when we complain about anything, told we're not good 'team players'. Somebody spray-painted 'monkey-wagon' on my truck, and "coon" on Toby's; that was two unrelated incidents, a year apart, at different jobsites. That give you some idea?"
I braced myself for the usual White fragility response: that there is no racism in America anymore; that we were just being over-sensitive;Β or accusing us of reverse racism for even talking about it. But that response didn't happen.
"Wow, that's just awful, Gary. It's despicable. I'm so sorry you went through that. But I really admire you for deciding to strike out on your own. It sounds like you aces have a very good thing going here."
Then she said something I've waited all my life to hear from a White person:
"Gary, I've gone through my life knowing very few Black people -- none as close friends till I met Jay. I've discovered that I'm really attracted to Black men -- like, it's a definite preference or orientation or whatever you call it, not a passing whim. I really like you four aces -- a lot -- and I don't want to screw that up. What I'm trying to say is, I don't know much about what life's like for a Black person. What you told me just now opened my eyes somewhat, but I'm still pretty ignorant. So if I stupidly say or do something racially insensitive, would you please gently point it out to me, so I can change my behavior?"
"I will, darling." I suppose that was the point I started to fall in love with her.
"And," I added, "I don't know much about what life's like for a woman. If I ever say or do something sexist, something that makes you uncomfortable as a woman, you call me on that, OK darling?"
"Yes sir," she grinned. "So far, all four of you aces have done a great job of welcoming me as your slut, while making me feel comfortable and safe and respected. Not to mention giving me the best sex ever." She kissed me again.
"Speaking of sex," I responded, "I'd love to keep you here all to myself, but there's three more bedrooms you need to visit before morning, with three more aces eager to fuck you again. Get to it, my darling slut."
"Yes sir. Could you please smack my ass to send me on my way?" Damn, I was sorry to see her go, but I loved the way her bare ass moved as she walked out of my bedroom, with my clear red handprint on it.