Susan, you were right, I can't believe I doubted you. I denied myself the joy of black men for all those years. When I think of all that black cock I could have enjoyed nearly brings tears to my eyes. I envy all your black boyfriends back in those crazy school days. You went with, what,...maybe eight or ten guys. I recall being curious though reserved-I lacked the moxie to break with the pack.
Well, my dear Susan, I'm a believer now. You see I recently shed those stupid inhibitions and began dating black men. Actually it was three weeks ago when I finally "got religion!"-BLACK MAGIC!
And so, Susan, there I was on my knees about to worship my first big, throbbing, black penis. It was aimed just inches from my face, my quivering red-glossed lips. To say that it was the most appetizing dick ever to grace my presence would not be an overstatement. Its smooth ebony skin glistened wonderfully down the entire veiny shaft except for the bulbous head. Here it turned nearly pinkish as it jetted from its turtle-like foreskin. Having lived 24 years in denial and dreaming vicariously through your sex life, it all seemed to come down to this moment. I was just seconds away from tasting it as I gazed greedily in awe still marveling at its full eight inches of joy. My eyes were sponges soaking in its mysterious knowledge. It was art, a fucking masterpiece. I studied the peehole, which reminded me of a tiny mouth. If it could speak I imagined it might say something like, "Open wide, girlie, I'm coming in!" My whole body shook in anticipation of taking this juicy tube of blood-engorged flesh through my lips, into my mouth, and down my moist throat. My breath whispered across it, hot and uneven as my heart pulsed. I could contain myself no longer: my hand pumped him gently as I parted my willing lips and...but I'm getting a head of myself.
Remember when we used to kick around a bit back when we were kids? We had a lot of great times you and me. It abruptly came to an end though when I shied away after you began running with black guys. It was an ignorance, I admit. I was an idiot for allowing myself to fall victim to peer pressure. And worse of all, I was a hypocrite because I secretly lusted for your black boyfriends. For what it matters, I am sorry. Truly.
Anyway, Susan, it's been how many years since we saw each other? I bet at least five. I should tell you that I married computer salesman, Harry. I suppose I don't need to tell you that he's white. I've kept my figure for which Harry is so proud of showing off. It may sound conceded but I have never had a problem attracting attention from the opposite sex. With a 34B cup size, a "cute bubble butt" (as Harry will say), azure blue eyes, and jet black hair set against my pale white skin, I know I'm a catch for any man. I take good care of myself. I work out almost daily, wear fashionable clothes, make routine visits to the nail salon to maintain my one and a half inch nails, and have perfected my make-up. Remember all the time we used to spend trying all the latest make-overs. Back then I could never get it right. Now I am very confident with my appearance. We have an easy life with a fairly routine routine. I suppose some people would call it a rut.
You see, Susan, my husband and I have sort of drifted apart. Harry has become so absorbed in his work the last few years that we almost live separate lives. Often he is on the road and though I can't find proof he has ever been unfaithful, I can't say he satisfies me completely. We rarely make love.
I work as an accountant for a small telemarketing firm about 25 hours a week. When he is away on business I sometimes check out the night life around town. A lot of new clubs have opened downtown. Although I just go out to dance, I never seriously considered cheating on my husband. And let me let you I have had opportunities. From both black and white men.
Lately, I have experienced very intense dreams of black men fucking me. Actually it's more like black cocks as I never see their faces. I may recall a glimpse of a chest or shoulder but definitely no faces. Weird. Many mornings I have risen with a dripping pussy and a day-long horniness that just doesn't quit. Black cocks that once filled my night dreams are now filling my head during the day as well.
One morning, after such a dream, I woke, masturbated, then tried a cold shower to rid my mind of cock. Still their images persisted. So powerful in fact that I became obsessed. At work that day I lost all hope of getting any serious work done. I asked my boss for the rest of the day off. He is a dear to work for and though he granted me my request he did insist I stay until lunch. Somehow I managed to finish my morning assignment.
After punching out I headed down to Pharo's, an urban club about ten minutes from work. Pharo's is a class establishment. The interior is posh and cushiony. It's very clean and comfortable and has a mostly black clientele. It was around half past noon. I knew it would be slow but my need was great.
Well, Susan, I walked in and found two black men at the bar and a white red-haired bartender, who looked as out of place as me. They were all about my age and were engrossed in an afternoon ball game on the tube. I stepped up to the farther side of the bar and ordered a chablis. I drank in silence and hoped that one of the blacks might start a conversation with me. When, after my first drink, that didn't happen I decided I should make the first move. As I was about to walk over to them and offer to buy the next round, the taller of the two walked in the back to the mens room. This, I thought, was even a better opportunity. After a couple of minutes I took the chance and I walked back coyly slipping into the mens room. He was just buckling up at the urinal.
My heart pounded as I stood in the doorway.
He turned, surprised, and nonchalantly said in a deep voice, "What's up, honey? This ain't no ladies room."
"I know. " I said. I was shaking from anticipation. "I wasn't looking for the ladies room."
"Oh?" he responded with a touch of sarcasm in his tone.
I suddenly realized I held the advantage position and blurted out exactly what I wanted to say: "I came in here looking for some action. I would very much like to suck you off." I couldn't believe I said it but there I was. Just hearing myself say the words almost made me cream my jeans.
"What?!"
I kept my composure, looked directly in his eyes, and confidently spoke: "I want to suck your dick. I want to know what it tastes like. You got a problem with that?"
"Damn, woman. No I got no problem. You want it right here?"