Risten Gets Blaced...

This was written with the help and guidance of my favorite author LeasaJ.

When Kristen Richardson got home after sucking off the old school janitor, Leroy, she found herself a mess.

There was cum all over the front of her dress and her hair was sticky with it. Poor Kristen was still frightened and confused by her whore-like behavior with the old Black.

How could she have sucked off a 65 year old black man? A janitor of all things! She was scared to death someone might have seen. After all, she was the school’s prettiest girl: Captain of the Cheerleaders, Prom Queen and Reverend Richardson’s daughter.

How could this have happened to her?

After undressing and hiding her cum stained dress in the hamper, Kristen examined herself. Her pussy lips were still very swollen with excitement. Her clitty ached. And her huge, firm, 38Ds ached too.

Her mind kept drifting back to the image of the old Janitor’s dick. It was by far the hugest, ugliest thing she’d ever seen.

She licked her lips as she thought about it. How could she have put such a filthy thing in her mouth? She gagged at the thought and then almost wretched.

Sitting on her bed, she could still taste the foul salty cum of the janitor. Even after nearly getting sick from the memory, she still found herself agitated. She began playing with her clitty and tried to think of her young, white boyfriend, Tommy.

But it was images of Leroy that kept coming to the fore. That abnormally large cock. The way it felt in her mouth...

The next thing the poor girl knew she was pinching and playing with her nipples. As thoughts of the nasty, old Black kept invading her fantasies, she found herself painfully twisting her nipples and roughly mauling her own massive tits.

Her thighs felt wet. When Kristen looked down she could see her girl juices were literally running down her legs.

What was happening to her, she asked herself—frantically!

Poor Kristen needed relief. She found a can of hairspray, shaped like a nine-inch torpedo, and completely black in color. She straddled it on her bed and worked it into her tight pussy. Kristen’s little pussy was so little touched or used by any boy that it was very undersized and small.

Kristen needed to change that, as she struggled squatting on the large black can of hairspray, working it into the tight, but well lubricated, lips of her little snatch.

“Uhhh, uhhhh,” she grunted, grinding down on the can.

Slowly the confused blonde began stretching her under used pussy, as she filled herself with the solid-steel, black can of spray.

Soon she had it in her. The girl then began humping on it as her orgasm built to inordinate degrees. Her huge breasts bounced with each exaggerated hump onto the can, almost hitting her in the chin. All the pent up lust poor Kristen had held within herself as a minister’s daughter, as a “good girl,” began to build and build.

Finally she burst:

“OOOooooohhhhh....”

And again:

“OOOoooohhh...yesss...”

And one last after shock:

“OOOoooooooooooohhhhhhhhh...goddddd.....oh, oh, oh....Leroy.”

In the after glow of the tremendous orgasm, Kristen’s hands began again pawing and kneading her large firm tits.

When the aftershocks subsided, she collapsed into a fetal position and started crying. She was both frightened and ashamed of what she had done...both with the janitor that day, and with him in her orgasmic fantasy.

This couldn’t be happening to her, she scolded herself.

Her mind drifted to horrible school hall conversations she and her girlfriends had had about ‘sluts’ that made it with black boys. Yet here she was infatuated with the abnormal, over-sized, uncut dick of the school’s old, black janitor...Leroy.

What would everyone think!!!

She began sobbing and crying again, her face buried deeply into her pillow.

Reverend Richardson was in the bathroom cleaning up when he stopped short, drying his hands. Looking out into the hallway, he suspiciously closed the door...and locked it.

He opened the hamper lid and began ferreting among the soiled clothes. At the top of them he found a pair of Kristen’s recently warn panties. He held them up. They were wet in the crotch!

The Reverend’s fingers stroked the wet panty crotch in lustful amazement. His cock was now rock hard in his trousers and even beginning to leak.

The lusty preacher held the panties to his nose and mouth, then breathed in deeply. The rich aroma of his daughter’s sex filled his nostrils and lungs.

He had wanted her for years...

Slowly the dignified, Reverend Richardson unzipped his trousers and pulled out his smallish dick. He then began frigging it with the panty crotch moistened by his own daughter’s secretions.

In a matter of a minute or two his eyes rolled upward and he spunked into the panties.

It was not the first time he had done this; it would not be the last.

In the weeks to come, Kristen would come to school always thinking any day the old, black janitor would come after her again. But to her consternation, Leroy ignored her.

In passing, their eyes would occasionally meet, but Leroy looked right through her as if he didn’t know or recognize the blonde beauty at all.

Kristen was fascinated that this awful, old man could just write her off this way. He must be playing a game she’d think. But day after day, week after week, he never responded or followed up.

Kristen, half unconsciously, began to wear nicer outfits to school...sometimes even sexy ones...but the old Black never looked twice.

Worse yet for the Reverend’s daughter, at night, after the lights were out, she couldn’t get the old janitor out of her head. She would try to fantasize about the handsome white boys in her class. But her fantasies would always be interrupted by visions of the unnaturally large, black, uncut monster-dick of the old janitor.

The horrid vision of this large, pulsating and drooling organ would enflame the poor girl to playing with herself. Her body would crave the relief that only the large black phallus could bring it. Finally, each night, her fingers would furiously work away as a poor substitute for the real object of her heated body’s desire.

Kristen lived a life of secret guilt and shame as her lust for the old, fat, black man grew.

In her fantasies now, white boys meant little. She began to notice older black men everywhere. The old Black at the liquor store who ogled her when she’d accompany her boy friend there for beer. And the old, black men who drove the garbage truck past her house Monday mornings.

Kristen liked the way these old, lusting men of African descent would look her over. Her body responded to older black men in a way it never had to the insecure, well mannered, and shy, white boys.

Kristen found herself looking at a book her boyfriend had of old blues men. These hardened, and often homely, old Blacks made Kristen’s hands shake as she paged through the book.

“Son House,” she whispered the name. The picture of the old black man, shouting and partially toothless, made the hair on her neck stand up. But the blonde beauty found herself coming back to it several times...to just stare at him. He was so homely.

So, then, why were Kristen’s hands shaking? Why, she wondered, was her mouth dry? Why did this aged, old, black man’s photo make her get that funny feeling down in the pit of her stomach?

“He excites me!” she exclaimed to herself.

Then the blonde Homecoming Queen sat, in the shock of self recognition, and wondered what she might do if left alone with a man like that—wild, old, rutting...and so, so black.

When Kristen finally closed the old blues book, she realized a dampness between her thighs. She had been brought to this state by just looking at the photos of those beautif—no, horrid...those absolutely horrid, old men!!!

Kristen began to pray much more. At night she would pray for release from her compulsion...her compulsion for aged, black men...with their enormous, uncut horse-cocks...jutting from their old, African loins.

Even Kristen’s prayers would dissolve into these obscene images of her young, innocent Caucasian mind’s, African-obsessed lust.

Reverend Richardson’s sermons became increasingly vociferous over the next several weeks. He was finding Kristen’s panties wetter and wetter each time he went fishing for them in the family’s hamper. After each sniffing session, the good Reverend’s orgasm would be even more intense than the preceding session’s.

By Sunday, the pious Reverend Richardson’s guilt would drive him to the heights of oratory from the pulpit:

“If your left hand betrays you, better to cut it off...!!!” he would shout to the congregation. (Of course, in the case of this god’s servant, it wasn’t his ‘hand’ that needed to be cut off...)

Members of the church wondered what was inspiring the preacher to such heights of righteous anger and impassioned instruction. The good reverend would work away heatedly in the pulpit, sweating profusely from the brow, waving his hand about wildly, and spitting the Lord’s Word from his mouth.

When the Sunday lecture was completed, it would take hours for Reverend Richardson to calm down. Then he would come home to find his loving wife making dinner. As he went upstairs to change he would pass the room of his gorgeous, full-bodied daughter. Her door would be shut, but he thought he could hear her bed creaking. More often than not, lately, it seemed he could hear that sound emanating from her room. And was that crying...or moaning he heard?

The bathroom door closed behind him...(although he would try to resist) he would soon find himself opening the lid to the hamper. Once again, he would find the thin, silken, bikini panties—soaked! He covered his face with them. He breathed in his daughter. Then he began licking the panty’s drenched crotch, tasting his daughter’s secreted, vaginal excitement.

Eyes glazed over, Reverend Richardson began to jerk the panties up and down, furiously, over his meager dick. He soon discharged, and then felt overcome with guilt.

A room away, Kristen likewise peaked in orgasm—after fifteen minutes of ramming the 9” can of hairspray into her flooding channel. Her vaginal muscles spasmed and actually held the can deep within her—hands free—as she broke out in sweat and muttered, “Leroy...oh, god...Leroy...” over and over.

Over the next two weeks Kristen determined that she must see the old black janitor, Leroy. Whenever she even glimpsed him in the hallway at school, her heart would quicken its beat, pounding in her chest. She felt everyone must know! How could the other kids not notice her excitement and distraction whenever the old janitor was within eyeshot?

Of course, Kristen’s fears were somewhat paranoid. None of the kids in her school would expect in a million years that the class-beauty would have sucked off—and now have a crush on—the school’s old, fat, black janitor, Leroy!

This was Kristen’s secret alone. And her guilt was making her mad...not to mention, more desperate. She couldn’t get the old man and his monstrous organ out of her mind, night or day.

Kristen had to be near him, had to know he wanted her.

Friday, after school ended, she began to wander down the end of the hallway that led to the stairs that descended to the basement that housed Leroy’s office. Each of her steps down the stairway echoed and reminded her of its purpose, ringing in her ears, “Slut!”

But the poor minister’s daughter couldn’t stop herself. The old, black stud caged down in the school’s basement had something for her that superceded all her pride, her morality, and her self-esteem: his immense, uncut, black dick. He was her dream come true. A dream she was in denial of until that fateful day he drove her to her knees in the school hallway and force-fed her his thick, dark meat...and made her swallow his pasty African seed.

Kristen wanted him to do it again.

As vile an act as it was...Kristen wanted more...much more. She saw herself now as a white girl born for just this—submission to African lust! Indeed, submission to the African lust of a man older than her father. One who would just use her...

Her body shivered and vibrated with a sultry excitement at the thought of the old Black using her, using her as just a tool, a tool to get off with...Kristen Richardson, Captain of the Cheerleaders, Homecoming Queen...Leroy the Janitor’s Whore!!!

Kristen knew she was all of the above...and each echoing footstep reminded her of it.

The blonde approached the janitor’s door and reached up to knock, but before her knuckles could do so, a voice called out:

“You can come on in, baby!”

Kristen turned the knob of the door and opened it to find Leroy sitting on his cot, a bottle of gin on the floor beside him. Leroy looked her up and down, a widening toothless smile stretching across his simian face.

“Gee baby, what brings you down here this time a day?”

Kristen stood before the old man, shaking like a leaf, her tight dress hugging every crevice of her gorgeous body, displaying herself intimately for the old Black’s pleasure.

“Ya’ must need somethin’ to be fixed, dat it?” Leroy played with her.

Kristen stood, speechless.

“Well, as ya’ know. Got me a nice big screwdriver dat would prob’ly fix any problem a girl like you would have,” the old Black teased, and grabbed his crotch crudely while doing so.

“Also, got me a jackhammer dat would be able to drill down deep wherever dat problem may be. Dat watcha’ lookin’ fo’, girl?” Leroy asked, dripping with sarcasm.

“I...I...just wanted...to let you know...as a Christian...I...I forgive you for what you did to me that day...” Kristen offered feebly, her voice quivering with nervousness.

Leroy took this in for a few seconds, and then broke out in boisterous laughter. Rocking back and forth, slapping his knee repeatedly, Leroy carried on laughing hysterically. The janitor enjoyed humiliating poor Kristen, who just stood before him, her head hanging down, gazing at the floor in embarrassment.

“Girl, you practically raped me that day—who the fuck you kiddin’?” Leroy finally screamed at her.

“Now you back here lookin’ fo’ mo’ and you hand me that bullshit,” the old, fat Black taunted, “I oughta’ throw yo’ white ass right outta here, bitch!”

Long moments of silence then ensued...finally Kristen whispered:

“I...I...I’m sorry, Leroy.” It felt good for her to apologize, admitting to herself and the old man why she had really come down to the basement at this hour. The blonde beauty also loved the sound of his name rolling off her lips, and tongue...‘Leroy’.

Leroy looked her over and couldn’t believe his good fortune. What had he done to deserve this goddess wanting him? He was old, fat and ugly. He knew it. So, why, how, what, could have brought this phenomenal looking white bitch to him. He knew he’d never been a ‘good man’, so he knew God wasn’t blessing him. And especially, based on what he intended to do to the young, incredibly-built White—he knew it wasn’t the workings of God. But at this point he didn’t care—he was going to enjoy it. There was always time to ponder its meaning—later!

“Take ‘em off!” Leroy commanded, nodding at the young girl’s dress.

Kristen stared back at him, at first unable to comprehend the lewdness of the old man’s order. Then a strange knowingness came into her eyes, followed by a desire, which smoldered into a lust.

Kristen’s hands began to reach behind her and undo the zipper of the skin-tight dress. The zipper sounded and the front of the dress loosened its hold of her breasts. The girl’s hands pushed off the shoulder straps, and the dress, sliding down along her voluptuous frame to the floor, surrendered her body to the bulging eyes of the lusting, old janitor.

Leroy couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Kristen’s 38D breasts literally bulged from her brassiere as if they were bursting to free themselves. The rest of her body was slender, her legs long and perfect. She stood in front of him in just her bra, thong panties and high-heels.

“This bitch is fuckin’ perfect!” Leroy thought to himself, but he wasn’t about to show her he was so impressed with her endowments.

Kristen noticed the long thick bulge that ran down the pant leg of Leroy’s old, green maintenance pants. She was proud that she could do that to him.

“Let me see them tits!” the janitor ordered the blonde, minister’s daughter.

Kristen complied with the black man’s command.

Reaching behind her, the blonde struggled momentarily with the hooks to her bra, but then they came free. She shrugged her shoulders forward and the bra slid from her breasts, down her slender arms and into her hands. She flung it to a chair in the corner of the small room. As she did, her breasts shook. They were real, Leroy realized, astonished so large a pair of tits could be on so slender a frame—and be real!!!

Kristen’s tits were magnificent. Huge, they still stood out firmly, with no sag whatsoever. Leroy knew that a girl could only maintain that kind of firmness combined with size for maybe 2 or three years during her teens. Then something would have to give. The old Black was determined to enjoy the young white girl’s perfection while it lasted. Afterwards he could pass her back to some wimpy white boy—once he was done with her! Of course, Leroy doubted she’d ever be satisfied with some white boy again. But that was her problem.

As Leroy continued looking over his newly won white toy, he stared at the size of Kristen’s abnormally large nipples. They were larger than silver dollars, and in her excitement they protruded like the nipples placed on a baby’s bottle. They stuck out obscenely, at least three quarters of an inch.

“C’mere bitch!” Leroy demanded.

Kristen sashayed sexily over to the 65 year-old Black. He then pulled her to his lap. Impatiently, he began squeezing and fondling her enormous tits, pinching and pulling playfully at her nipples. The old black had a look of wonderment on his homely face as he would pull at a nipple, then let go, and watch the huge orb bounce and wobble back into its original form and position.

Suddenly Leroy cupped one of the huge tits, and squeezed it roughly, distending the nipple upward. The old, ape-like man then clamped his thick African lips over half the blonde’s breast, sucking deeply at the distended nipple.

Kristen groaned. She felt as if she were being devoured by the rutting, old Black. He slobbered and sucked away at her noisily, and the young girl could feel her vagina responding. Her nether lips were growing thick and puffy...and moist. She cradled the black, balding head of her 60-plus lover, whispering to him:

“Yes, Leroy...oh yes, baby...take me, please...take me however you want me...you just don’t know...I’ve waited so long for you!”

The young girl’s encouragement just made the rutting, old Black hungrier for her flesh. When his lips finally let go of her breast, they did so with a loud pop. Her breast was bright red where it had been so violently sucked, her nipple was beet red from the old man gnawing on it.

He threw her on the cot watching her enormous tits bounce up and down, nearly reaching her chin. He could see the wet stain in the crotch of her thong and smirked down on her.

As he threw off his shirt, he said:

“Sit up and unbuckle my pants.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, the full-bodied teen sat up and began working furiously away at unbuckling the old janitor’s pants. In the back of her mind she could see herself, half-amazed at her own randyness, and even more amazed that this was her, Kristen Richardson, undressing—no, frantically stripping—the old, black janitor, Leroy, of his pants...literally preparing the old Black to fuck her.

And Kristen realized she’d never wanted anything more in her life.